𝒚𝒏𝒂 !

"Don't tell me you're nervous?"

Robby's eyes twinkled with mirth as he backed you into the kitchen counter, his hips against yours, belly to belly as your back hit the marble edge. The counter was cool through the thin cotton of your shirt, the cabinet handle pressing into the back of your thigh while the oven warmed the room behind him.

Your mouth twitched as you looped your hands around his neck, "Not…nervous." you said, though your heart skipped a little beat when his big hands settled on your hips. "Just excited."

He nodded, a real smile pulling at his mouth, his eyes creasing deeper as he studied you.

"Food's gonna burn." you murmured when he only stared down at you longer while your fingers played with the hair on his neck.

"Mhm." he hummed, his hands slipping under just your the hem of your shirt. His thumbs dragged lightly across your sensitive skin above your waistband as he bent down to press a kiss to your lips. His mustache tickled, and you breathed him in— toothpaste and whiskey on his lips.

Tonight was the night Jack Abbot would be joining for dinner.

He'd agreed to come over on a night he wasn't on shift, and Robby wasn't working either. For once, there'd be no interruptions or excuses, no run-ins that were bound to happen if you tried to meet either of them at work. It would be just the three of you sitting down together and seeing where the conversation went.

It did make you nervous, admittedly. Not enough to make you want to stop or back out, or pretend you hadn't been counting the hours until he got there— but it did make your stomach give a little twist every time you glanced toward the front door. Jack was Jack, and you knew him well enough to know you wanted him there. Still, wanting him with Robby in the room, wanting him after everything you’d already done wrong, wanting him now that the wanting had permission—it made your fingers restless against the back of Robby’s neck.

But what excited you most, though, was that the four weeks was up.

Your long, long punishment for stepping across boundary lines was finally done and paid. Four weeks of trying to be good, of no sharing and no release. Showing Robby that you could be trusted, that you still wanted to be with him. Your legs squeezed together at the thought of how many times he'd brought you to the edge only to be denied. And now, finally, that would be ending.

You weren't sure when, or how, but knowing that it was finally done…

"Little too excited, maybe?" Robby chuckled when he pulled away. His eyes dropped to the movement of your thighs, then came back to your face with a look that made your stomach squirm again.

You shrugged, trying and failing to look innocent.

"Tonight is only about discussing things." His voice was still warm, still Robby, but there was a firmer edge beneath it now. "We don't want to put any pressure on him, remember? No fun."

"Yeah, you're right. No fun." you said sarcastically.

He pinched your skin, making you yelp with a little giggle, before returning to the stove.

"Behave." he said, reaching for the wooden spoon. You smiled, even if the simple word made your face heat.

You watched him stir the pan, his shoulders relaxed beneath his shirt, one hip leaned into the counter, the deep brown hair across his forearms twitching as he flexed, moving the food around. He looked so ordinary like this. Domestic. Sweet.

You knew well and good he had his reasons for being so strict the past month. He'd explained them to you more than once, always with that steady patience of his, always making sure you understood the punishment wasn't because you were bad. You'd made a bad decision. You'd crossed a line. There was a difference, he'd said, and you believed him.

It still made guilt creep up your neck as you watched him now.

You resumed your work at the cutting board, laying out the washed lettuce and chopping with the knife, only the noise of domesticity filling the room now—your knife meeting the board, the sizzling of the chicken in the pan, the faint thunk of Robby pushing the spoon around the skillet.

"Go sit," he said gently. "I've got this."

You didn't need to be told twice, taking his bid and putting down the knife to leave.

But as you turned your back, you felt his warm hand latch around your arm, and suddenly pull you tight against his side.

You gasped, chest going flush to him.

The spoon was still in his other hand as the chicken hissed in the pan. His fingers wrapped around your arm, intense but not hurting as he held fast.

"When Jack gets here," he murmured, his voice different now— baritone and intense. It made your skin rise in goosebumps. He leaned down further, his face inching closer, voice lowering, "I want you to answer the door and give him a kiss, okay?"

You swallowed dryly, the gentle pulse that had been a distant reminder between your legs now jumping in earnest.

"Yes, Robby."

Something pleased moved through his gaze before his grip on your arm loosened.

"Good girl." he said, kissing you one last time, chaste and quick on the lips before letting go.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Robby's eyes lifted toward the front of the house on instinct, and then came back to you. His mouth twitched, something knowing in the corner of it.

"Go let our guest in, honey."

Your skin went hot all at once, nerves lighting up through your chest, down your arms, into the tips of your fingers. But you tried not to show it. You only nodded and slipped away from him, padding quickly down the hall until the front door appeared.

You sucked in a deep breath, checking your reflection in the little hanging mirror above the entry table, where your chapstick and house keys laid haphazardly in the catch-all. When you made eye contact with yourself, you could see you were doing a terrible job of hiding your nerves after all. Your eyes were bright and wide, your skin dappling with perspiration as your shoulders sat just a little too high and tight.

You shook yourself. It was just Jack.

Turning back towards the dark oak door, you took hold of the handle, and opened it.

In front of you was one of the most handsome men you'd ever known.

He'd dressed nicely for you tonight. A short sleeve button up, dark wash Levi's, his emergency department shoes long gone and replaced with clean white sneakers. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it one too many times just on the walk up the stairs, the graying short curls a little messy in the most charming way. And there was some small, careful nervousness in the way he stood there, crutches held in one hand even though he wore his prosthesis, and his backpack hung from the other shoulder.

"Hi." you said, a little shyly.

"Hey," he breathed out. You wondered if he'd been holding it the same way you had.

"Um, come in," you said, making way for him.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said.

As you stood aside, he walked in and got closer, bending down to give you a hug, his free arm wrapping around your shoulders. You lifted your arms around him too, his shirt soft beneath your hands, the clean smell of Irish Spring and aftershave close in the collar. And before he could pull away, you held on a little tighter.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you hello, Jack?" you whispered in his ear.

When you looked back at him, a blush had flooded his cheeks, a cheeky little smile pulling at his mouth. He'd shaven recently too, you realized, though the roughness had already started to come back along his jaw.

"Yeah," he murmured, leaning down again. "Yeah. Course you can—c'mere."

You reached up, pressing your lips to his gently.

Your whole body seemed to notice it at once. It still felt the same—hot, immediate, like stepping into a room with a fire already going. Memories threatened at the back of your mind, how possessed he'd gotten when he began to kiss you in the truck, how he'd yanked you into his lap at the first chance. Last week in the exam room when you'd asked for a chaste kiss goodbye. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing. His lips were a little chapped today, his jaw rough beneath your fingertips where your hand had lifted without thinking.

"Evenin', Jack," Robby greeted from the mouth of the hall.

You hadn't realized you'd been kissing Jack for so long until you pulled away. Robby was smiling though, one shoulder leaned against the wall, his eyes moving over you, so warm and proud that it made your heart leap.

Jack looked at him, clearing his throat with a small smile. "Thanks for havin' me, brother." He stepped forward, bringing Robby into a hug. Robby patted him on the back in greeting, squeezing his shoulder as they parted.

"Good to see you." Robby said. "Come in. Honey, will you take his things while I get Jack a drink? What'll you have? Just got his new Bourbon you'd like."

You went to Jack, taking his backpack from his shoulder, but as you held your hand out for his crutches, he kept it in his hand.

"S'alright, sweetheart. I'll keep this." he said gently, nodding down toward his prosthesis. "Wanna get the damn thing off as soon as I can, anyway."

You nodded, quickly going to set his things down in the entry way.

As you lingered in the hallway, you heard their conversation carry through the house, something about how old the new bottle was, what notes the whiskey had, whether Robby was overselling it. Jack complimented the smell of dinner cooking. It all felt so…normal. Just two friends talking in the kitchen, shoes on the mat by the door. Jack's backpack looking less out of place than you'd expected.

Except your pulse was still kicking hard from a simple kiss from him.

You hurried into the kitchen, taking the auburn liquid from its decanter before they could get to it, hastily busying yourself. You poured Jack two fingers into a glass as they chatted and grabbed Robby's from where it sat on the counter, walking over to them and handing them their respective drinks.

"What a sweet girl you are," Jack cooed as your fingers brushed, taking the glass from you.

Your belly swooped.

"Isn't she?" Robby agreed, bending to kiss your cheek. "Why don't you sit with Jack at the table, honey? I'll bring the salad."

You nodded, nerves feeling jittery and your steps a little quick as you went to the table and sat by your guest.

"You mind if I get this thing off sooner than later?" Jack asked, lowering himself into the dining chair with a careful groan. The cheekiness eased out of his face for a moment, replaced by something more pained and sheepish as he glanced at you. "Not exactly dinner table etiquette, I know."

"I don't mind." you said easily, pouring all three empty water glasses full from the jug in the center of the table.

The table was set with one of Robby's nicer sets, not the fancy kind of serving plateware you had grown up around, the kind married couples got in boxes with tissue paper and little cards tucked inside. But still, the plates and salad bowls were a pretty gunmetal gray, the silverware true silver and gleaming beside the folded napkins.

Robby shrugged, uncaring as well, as he poured you a glass of your favorite wine.

Jack said a gentle thanks as you finished pouring his water, and he began to undo his prosthesis. When the end of his leg became visible, he rubbed his palm over it, letting out a deep sigh.

"Better?" you asked quietly, sipping your water to quench your parched mouth.

He leaned back into the seat, hand still at his knee, rubbing the day from it. "Yeah. Better."

Robby brought over the large salad bowl, the alabaster tongs waiting at the top. He set it down in the middle of the table, then took his seat and doled out a few helpings of salad onto each plate. He put your wine glass in front of you, then settled back with his own bourbon in hand.

For a moment, the three of you just sat there.

The table was ready. The salad bowl between you, water glasses filled, silverware laid out beside folded napkins, dinner still warm in the oven, waiting to be served. Jack had his bourbon in one hand, his other still massaging his residual limb. Robby sat across from you, one ankle hooked under his chair, his gaze moving between you and Jack with a funny look in his eyes—but he was smiling.

Your fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, heating rising to your cheeks without even having to have take a sip.

"Well," you said, lifting it, your voice only a little uneven. "Here's to…new beginnings. And good company."

Robby looked at Jack.

Jack looked at Robby.

A smile tugged at Jack’s mouth first, softer than usual, though with that same cheekiness that always lit his eyes, and he held up his bourbon, looking over to Robby, who lifted his.

"To new beginnings." they said together.

Dinner went normal. Natural as anything, like it was just you and Robby enjoying dinner with a dear friend. Nothing about whatever this was got brought up, whether because no one dared to bring it up first or because the conversation flowed easily enough without it, you couldn't be quite sure.

Every so often, Robby's hand would rest lightly over your knuckles when telling a story, the lines beside his eyes deep when he smiled. You felt Jack toe at your ankle once while you listened, thinking it was just a mistake, and then he did it a second time, then a third, until you began to nudge him back beneath the table. Your toe traced up the outside of his calf, careful at first, then a little braver when his mouth twitched around the rim of his glass. He took a bigger bite just to hide his own smile when you hooked your foot behind his ankle.

By the time the plates were cleared and the three of you rejoined in the living room, your belly felt warm and content, cheeks hot with the effects of a couple glasses of wine and good food.

"If it's okay, Jack—" you said, stopping him before he could sit in the lone armchair across the sofa, his weight bearing down on his crutches as he moved into the room. "I like…um…I like touching. For conversations like these."

"Oh?" he asked, standing a little straighter, fixing his grip on the crutches and crooking his head at you.

"Like…" You felt your heart race up a little, a bashful smile twitching at your lips. "I don't know. It helps me feel more connected, I guess. If I can reach for you, touch you." You patted the cushion beside you on the large couch. "Can you sit next to me here?"

Jack's expression softened, though the teasing stayed at the edge of his mouth.

"Yeah, sweetheart." he said. "I can do that."

He made his way around the coffee table, setting his crutches at arm's length before sitting down. The couch dipped around his weight, a long sigh expelling from his lungs as he settled his arm along the back. He was close enough that his thigh brushed yours, and the contact sent a little spark of nerves through your stomach.

Robby joined you too, just on your other side, but not before handing Jack his refilled bourbon. He gave you your wine, then sat close enough that his knee pressed into yours. When all three of you had your glasses, you lifted them one last time, the rims touching with a small clink before everyone took a sip.

"So—" you breathed, settling further into the cushions and looking between them, "who'd like to start?"

"Start?" Jack chortled, "I've been here for two hours. Thought that's when we started."

Robby smiled at the fellow attending just as you did. "She means to talk about the three of us, Abbot."

"Oh, I know." Jack said, glancing at you. "I just like pushing her buttons."

"I know you do." you said, rolling your eyes and chuckling. "Okay, how about this: what is something important to you in a relationship?"

"A relationship? So we're just jumping in?"

"Yeah, we are," you nodded, "What do you look for in a partner?"

Jack pursed his lips, shrugging, "I like someone kind." he said. "Not just to me, but to people around them too. Waiters, nurses. The person taking too long in front of them at the pharmacy. You know."

You nodded. "Sure, yeah. That's definitely important."

"And funny." Jack added, then glanced at Robby. "Which is unfortunate for him."

Robby's eyebrows lifted. "Might come as a surprise to you, Jack, but some people do find me funny—even charming."

Jack lifted his glass a little, his smile gentling. "Then they get to know you and realize it's mostly deflection."

You looked at Robby, expecting a retort, but he only huffed through his nose, one corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. You laughed too, some of your nerves loosening with it. Robby's hand squeezed your knee before settling again.

You leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder for a moment as you asked: "What about you, Robby?"

"I…like…" he thought for a moment, his eyes on his knees then over to you, soft and warm and crinkled at the corners, "you."

You smiled, eyes narrowing, "Try again."

He smiled wider, looking away and nodding, "I look for…someone who is honest, who says what they mean. I want someone who I can count on to be there, to trust. I like…taking care of people, so that sort of thing is important. For someone to let me do that."

"Okay, not fair—" Jack interrupted, "he already had an answer locked and loaded."

"No take backs." you teased, shrugging as you peeked over at him.

"Not taking it back, just…" Jack shrugged back, "Okay, what about this? I like someone who is…comfortable in their own skin. Knows how to dance through dark days. Who…wants to do that. With me."

The room went a little quieter around his words, but not quite heavy. There was a stillness, an awareness of a tender wound he was showing so easily. So generously. Robby's hand moved over your knee. You took your chin from where it had rested on his shoulder to look up and over at Jack fully. He looked away first, taking a sip of bourbon with a faint pinkness at the tips of his ears.

"Very deep, Dr. Abbot." you said gently, reaching for his hand that rested in a fist on his thigh.

"Thank you, sweetheart." he nodded once, as if in mock bow, squeezing your hand where it held his. "What about you?"

"Me?" you asked.

"Yeah, you." Robby said, his hand still cupping your knee, resting their before sliding up and squeezing your thigh. "What do you want?"

You sat back a little further into the couch, thinking.

What did you look for in a partner?

Someone kind, yes. Someone trustworthy and honest too. Someone who could hold your hand through the darkness. Of course.

But also, you wanted someone who could take care of you and still allow you the freedom to choose. Someone who could see and know the worst parts of you and not just the sweet ones. Someone that could handle those selfish, scared parts of you. The parts that wanted too much.

That was the thing, wasn't it? All this want. Sometimes it felt bottomless. Maybe not every second of every day, but often enough that you knew it was there. A deep, hungry place in you that wanted to be filled with unconditional love. A reciprocated want just as deep if not more. It was embarrassing, it made you feel greedy and guilty all at once. It didn't have a clinical name for it, a nice way of asking for it.

You looked down at your hands— Robby's on your thigh, Jack's intertwined fingers.

"I think I want someone who sees me for who I am," you answered finally, "and instead of questioning it, wants it."

Your face warmed as soon as you said it, the rest on the tip of your tongue wanting to get out, but you bit down and held it back.

"I know…" you sucked in a breath, steadying your nerves, "I know I can be a lot sometimes. Too much… so… someone who can… handle that, want that… it's all… I don't know."

Robby leaned forward, tilting his head so he could find your gaze, making you look at him, "You are not too much." he said, so so gently. You felt Jack squeeze your hand, and you looked between them.

Jack's eyes were narrowed in a way that flamed your face—he was studying you so intently you wished you could sink into the couch cushions and disappear. This was all so new to him, you remembered. Not only this dynamic that was forming and changing and being shaped, but the big conversations. It felt a little scary now to you too. Exposed, open. The three of you sitting here with your feelings out where everyone could see them.

But Jack didn't seem scared off or worried he was getting into something he wasn't expecting. if anything, he seemed softened by it, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

"What—" you cleared your throat, "what about… how will the three of us be together? Like… will you come here? Will I go to you?"

You were asking Jack, who breathed in fresh breath, sitting up a little. His eyes flicked to Robby too, including him before he answered: "I guess…would it be like split custody?" he asked. "Some nights with me? Some nights with you? Or what?"

"I think—to start— we should be together." Robby answered, "Just until we can get a feel for it, so no one feels left out."

"And will the two of you…?" you asked, the question filling your mind and slipping out before you could stop it. "Is this a triad now? Are you two—"

Robby's face lit up red as anything you'd ever seen, his breath huffing a little, shaking back and forth.

"Woah, woah, woah." He shook his head, his hand lifting from your thigh to rub the back of his neck. "I don't think—I'm not really—"

"What does triad mean?" Jack asked.

Robby's hand moved from his neck to around his beard, covering his mouth as he said, "Means you and I would also be—"

Jack smiled widely. "I mean, Mike, you're handsome and all, but I don't—"

"Yeah, no." Robby said quickly, smiling despite himself while refusing to make eye contact.

"The maturity of two teenage boys…" you whispered through a laugh, sitting back and watching two grown man blush and fidget.

"Oh, yeah?" Robby teased, mirth in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

Before you could answer, his arm came around you and pulled you back against him, turning you with such easy strength that you ended up laid across his lap, your back to his chest, your legs stretching over Jack's thighs.

"Robby—!" you squealed, reaching your wine glass out so it wouldn't spill.

Jack smiled, taking it from you before the wine could slosh over the rim. His fingers brushed yours for a second, then he set the glass safely on the coffee table.

"There." he murmured. "No casualties."

Your face burned as Robby's arms kept you cradled up against him. You were half laughing still, breathless from how quickly he'd moved you, but the sound caught when his hand came to your jaw. His fingers settled beneath your chin, thumb along the side of your face, turning you so that you had to look up at him.

He was smiling, but not in the same way now. The playfulness was still there, just there in the lines beside his eyes, but his grip had gone certain. Familiar in the way that made your body remember him before your head caught up.

"Count your lucky stars I don't take you over my knee for laughing at us like that." he murmured.

You giggled some more, your spine tingling when you felt Jack squeeze the tops of your legs, rubbing his palms up and down them.

"Thought you said we weren't gonna have fun tonight." you murmured with a wicked smile.

Your knees shifted apart without much thought, the movement small but obvious with your legs draped over Jack's lap. His hands paused for one little second, the three of you seemed to notice it at the same time.

"I never said he and I weren't allowed to."

Jack's palms slid a little higher over your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above your knees before dragging back down. A slow massage, nothing hurried. Still, your skin lit under his hands, and the hem of your skirt bunched slightly beneath his fingers.

"Tease." you muttered.

Jack was watching his hands and the way you squirmed beneath them, a shy, sly smile pulling at his lips. Robby was smiling down at you too, thumb brushing your cheek before tapping twice to draw your attention back to him.

"Are you going to behave, young lady?" Robby asked.

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip.

"Somehow I don't believe her, brother." Jack said, and you could hear the smile still in his words.

"Me neither." Robby's hand tightened at your jaw, moving your face back and forth once before giving it a little shake. "You are so cute." he whispered.

You smiled wider, your hands coming up to wrap delicately around his wrist. "So are you."

"That so?" Robby asked, amusement lighting up his features.

You nodded.

"And what about him?" he asked, shifting your face so you were looking at Jack. "Do you think he's cute too?"

You nodded again. "Very."

"Aw, shucks," Jack said, a tinge of red flushing his cheeks again.

Robby's thumb pushed deeper into the flesh of your cheek as he asked: "Why don't you go show him how cute you think he is?"

You looked up at Robby, uncertain.

"Just a little kiss." he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over the tip of your nose. "Would you like that, Jack?"

"Course I would."

"Go on," Robby said.

You sat up, your body a little wobblier now, the warmth from both their hands lingering in places that made you feel too aware of yourself.

Jack sat back, widening his thighs so you could climb on top of him. You moved slowly, hands finding his shoulders first, his finding your hips in return. His palms settled there, thick and warm around you, holding you with a care that only made your stomach flip harder. Your skirt bunched where your thighs spread to make room for the breadth of his body, the fabric pulling high. You felt your nerves light up your skin.

You bit down on your lip again, smiling, "Hi."

He smiled a little crookedly, "Hey,"

You glanced over at Robby, who was watching intently, his hand along the back of the couch, legs spread open, his bourbon back in his hand.

"Go on." he said once more, tilting his glass toward you before taking a long sip.

Slowly—carefully— you leaned down and pressed your lips to Jack's. He was so warm, and you could taste the malted rye of bourbon just on his lips. He breathed in as you kissed him, his hands moving along your sides until they wrapped around you completely, keeping you glued to his chest. His muscled arms squeezed, making you gasp, opening for him, and he let out a little pleased hum at that as his tongued dipped to taste behind your lips.

You settled into him easily then, your arms wrapped around his neck, leaning further into his hold. As you sat deeper into his lap, you could feel that bulge grow eagerly now, both of you enrapt in one another. Your head went light at the feeling, with the heat of his mouth and the slow slide of his tongue, the wet sounds of your lips parting and finding each other again.

This was a different kiss. Where the kiss at the door was sweet, easy, lingering too, it wasn't as… intense. That kiss had piqued your memory, where now they were coming back in a flood—grinding down on him in the front seat of his truck, him languidly kissing your chest, the wild little panic of doing something you shouldn't and yet not being able to get close enough no matter how hard he pulled you in.

This kiss was still tender, still a little unsure, both of you retesting the motion of it in front of Robby, but that heat was there underneath. That need. The way Jack kissed like he meant it. All of it was there, simmering below the surface.

When your lips parted, your eyes caught on the shine of his bottom lip, wet and a little swollen from your mouth.

He kept you close, belly to belly, but leaned his head back and looked toward Robby while he pulled in air. You followed the angle of his face, dazed enough that it took you a second to remember Robby was right there when you looked over.

His glass rested low in his hand now, his eyes dark and fixed on the two of you, his thumb rubbing along the side of the tumbler.

You leaned down to kiss Jack's cheek, then the line of his jaw, nestling into him because you could. Because Robby was there watching and nothing about it was hidden. It felt good. Felt right. Less like sneaking away to give in to one another and more like being given the room to want it. Like space had been made for the hunger instead of everyone pretending it wasn't there.

"There is one thing I wanted to…" Jack started, breath still uneven. He cleared his throat. "I just want to say it before we get too far ahead of ourselves."

You kissed just under his ear before pulling back to look at him. "What is it?"

His arms loosened around you, though his hands stayed on your hips. His fingers slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, the calloused tips brushing hot skin, and even with the seriousness moving into his face, he still touched you gently.

"I don't want to feel like… like I'm just a guest in this," he said. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back up to search your face. Then he looked at Robby.

"I get this whole thing, I think. Or I'm trying to." His thumb moved over your hip. "You being in charge. Telling her what to do sometimes. How to do it. And I can see she likes it."

Your face flamed. Jack's mouth twitched, but he didn't tease you for it.

"You told her to kiss me when I walked in the door, didn't you?" he added.

You looked over at Robby, gnawing on your lip a little.

Robby nodded. "Yeah."

"See, and that's…" Jack breathed out through his nose, trying again. "I'm not saying I didn't like it. I did. I do. Clearly."

Your stomach squirmed, and his hand squeezed your waist, as if he could feel your unease. He looked up at you, licking his bottom lip.

"I just don't want everything between me and you to feel like it's… " he went on, quieter now, his pretty eyes looking into yours. "Like I'm waiting for permission. I respect what you two have. I don't want to come in here and step over boundaries and rules, but… I want to be able to be with you because you want it, too. Not just Robby telling you to."

"I hear you," you whispered gently, your hands moving to his face, cupping his jaw.

His eyes softened on yours.

"So do I." Robby said. You turned slightly in Jack's lap to look over again. Robby had set his glass down on the side table, his elbows resting on his knees now, body angled toward both of you.

"I think we can set parameters." Robby said, clearing his throat. "What we both feel comfortable with. What she feels comfortable with. But you're right. I don't want you feeling like you're just waiting for me to hand you a hall pass."

"Yes, definitely." you agreed, thumb brushing over the edge of Jack's jaw. "I don't want that either."

Jack looked between the two of you, his hands still petting the warm skin beneath your shirt. "Okay, so…"

"So tell us what you'd like to do." you said. "What you wouldn't like, what feels good, what feels weird. We can talk about it."

He sighed. "Geez, I feel like I'm in a therapy session."

You pinched his ear lightly. "Don't be so dramatic. It's just a conversation, Jack."

He gave you a look, but his hand tightened at your hip like he liked the scolding.

"You're sitting in my lap asking me to define my emotional needs." he said. "That's therapy."

"Your therapist sits in your lap?" you asked, crooking your gaze.

"Oh, you are a testy little thing." Jack narrowed his gaze, smiling up at you.

"Told you." Robby chuckled.

You smiled despite yourself, still close enough to feel Jack's breath against your face. "Then start with something easy."

Jack's eyes flicked to your lips, then back up.

"Easy?" he repeated.

You nodded.

His fingers spread against your back beneath your shirt, his voice low and settling deep in your belly as he said: "I'd like to kiss you without needing Robby to tell you to."

Robby's gaze moved to you.

You swallowed, then nodded. "I'd like that too."

Jack looked at Robby.

Robby sat back a little, hand rubbing once over his beard, taking the sight of you in Jack's lap with a careful breath.

"That's fine by me," Robby said.

Jack's eyes came back to yours, and the little shift in him made your heart kick. His fingers brushed up along your lower back.

"Can I kiss you again, sweetheart?"

Your face warmed, but you smiled. "Yes."

And he did, starting slow and tender again, just a gentle brushing of lips before you pulled him tighter, letting your tongue trace over the seam of his lips.

But you pulled back, just teasing, licking at his open mouth as he gasped.

"What else?"

He groaned, head tilting onto the back of the couch.

Robby chuckled from the other side of the couch, "You're killing him, honey."

"Yeah," you said, "but im having so much fun."

You leaned back, resting your hands on his chest, "Okay, what about… what about when we want to…do more than just kissing?"

The men shared a glance, and Robby said: "I had said in the beginning that maybe we should start with the three of us together. At least under the same roof."

You looked over at him. "You want me to…to be intimate with you when Jack is here?"

"And vice versa." Robby said, nodding.

Your mouth fell open a little, bemused.

You'd known, in theory, that this was where the conversation would go. It had been sitting under every touch, every glance, every careful little permission Robby had given since Jack walked through the door. Still, hearing it out loud made your stomach dip, because suddenly it wasn't some…thing you had all been circling. It was Robby saying yes, Jack's hands on you, your body still warm in Jack's lap while Robby watched from an arm's length away.

"I actually thought, maybe…" Robby shrugged, but the color rising in his face made your attention sharpen. His fingers flexed once against his own knee, then stilled. "It could be fun to…"

"Go on." you said, sitting back further on Jack's thighs.

You were suddenly very interested in what was going to come out of Robby's mouth next. He looked at you, then down at your hands where they rested on Jack's chest. His jaw shifted and his eyes flicked away.

"Touch?" he murmured, eyes barely glancing at you.

That one word changed your whole face. Not because it was sexual. But because it wasn't, not exactly. It was a sign. A bid. The word both of you used when what either he or you wanted felt too tender to ask for straight on. Touch meant come here, help me say it. The need for reassurance, connection. Something as simple as your hand in his did wonders for bravery.

You reached for him at once, leaning over without leaving Jack's lap. Robby scooted closer and took your hand in his.

His palm was warm and a little damp from the glass, his fingers closing around yours in a firm hold. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back, his index finger finding the inside of your wrist. That was all it was. Just skin and pressure. Just the reminder that he wasn't saying this from across the room by himself.

You had told Jack at the beginning that touch helped you. That you liked being able to reach for someone during conversations like these. But Robby needed it too sometimes. He needed the physical proof of you there while he let himself say something that scared him.

Jack didn't interrupt. His hands stayed on your hips, but his thumbs stopped moving, studying the two of you, watching how you went about this.

Robby looked down at your joined hands, then cleared his throat.

"I think I would like it if…" He stopped, ears going pinker now. "Maybe I came home and you two were already…"

You kept your voice gentle. "Already what?"

Robby breathed out through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. "Already together."

"Like you're walking in on us?" you asked.

His eyes flicked up to yours, embarrassed and interested and a little relieved that you had said it for him.

"Okay," you said, nodding, but gnawing it over in your head. Picturing you and Jack together, tangled limbs, sweaty and gasping. "How would that work?"

"We could text about it first." Robby went on. "A day when you're here, that is. And I'm coming back from a shift or something. Not really a surprise. Just…set up like one."

Jack was looking between the two of you, one hand still resting on your hip.

"Is that something you'd want to try too?" you asked him.

He shrugged, mouth pulling to one side. "I…have no idea." Then, more honestly, "Yeah. I mean, it sounds pretty sexy. Just… I've never done something like that."

He looked at Robby then, no judgment in his face, but like he was trying to understand—brows pulling together, his fingers tightening and loosening on your waist.

"Doesn't it kind of go against what you were saying? About wanting to be together when we're intimate?"

Robby's thumb paused against your hand, his lips pressing tightly together. There was almost a shyness to him.

You looked over at him, squeezing his fingers. "Is it okay if I try to explain what I think you mean?"

He nodded, though his face was still flushed.

"It's more like…" You glanced at Jack, then Robby again, careful now. "He likes seeing it. Me wanting you. You wanting me."

Jack's eyes moved from you to Robby. The latter's hand tightened around yours, but he didn't stop you.

"But not if we're lying about it." you said. "That's what is different from this and…what we did before. If it's sneaky, or if he walks in and actually thinks something happened without him knowing—that's not fun. That would just hurt him again."

Jack grimaced, looking apologetically at his fellow attending. Both of them looked at each other for a long moment before you continued.

"So we'd talk about it first, texting, plans, whatever. He'd know what he was coming home to."

You looked at Robby then, your voice softening a little. "And he likes knowing I still want him there. That when he walks in, I look for him. That I want him to see me. That I want him to do something about it."

Robby breathed out a quiet laugh, embarrassed but not disagreeing.

Jack seemed to let out a breath too, relief at Robby's reaction. "That about right then, Mike?"

Robby brought his other hand up to his beard, thumb dragging along the corner of his mouth. Still a little shy now, not quite looking at either of you.

"Yeah," he said, nodding once. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

You smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles, the wiry hair there tickling your lips. Robby's thumb brushed under your chin after, fond, quiet— and for a second none of you said anything.

It felt like the three of you had actually done it. Started the conversation, not fought about anything. A good start, at least. There would be many more to come, you were sure of it.

Jack's hand gave your hip another small squeeze, and Robby was still close enough for your fingers to stay tangled with his.

For a moment, none of it felt impossible.

And then, from the other room, your phone started ringing.

All three of you looked towards the sound. It took you a second to place it. Your bag was still in the kitchen, abandoned on one of the stools from when you'd come in earlier, and the ringtone sounded too loud against the hush that had settled over the living room.

You blinked, still half caught between them.

"Is that me?" you asked, though it obviously was.

Jack's brows lifted slightly. Robby's hand loosened around yours, grunting as he got up from the couch, "I'll grab it."

You watched him disappear into the kitchen, your brain still slow to catch up with the sound. A second ago, you had been sitting in the center of something warm and strange and careful, all three of you talking around sex and rules and wanting like it was something that could be held without falling apart. Now your phone was ringing from the other room, so ordinary, and yet felt like dragging the rest of the world back in by the collar.

Robby came back with it in his hand, the screen lighting his face from below. He frowned down at the name, not suspicious exactly, just confused.

When he handed it to you, you saw Mel King glowing across the screen.

You blinked.

"Hello?" you answered, a little timid.

"Hi!"

You startled at her loud, chipper voice. She sounded like she was in a car somewhere, her words a little muffled behind the engine and the faint rush of the road.

"Hey, Mel." You sat up a little straighter. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Oh! Yeah, totally." she said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean—I probably should've said that first, right? That it's not an emergency. I forget sometimes that's how people hear phone calls. I'm a really bad texter so …But no, it's okay. Everything's okay."

Your eyes flicked to Robby, who had settled back beside Jack, still watching your face with that narrowed, assessing look he got when he was trying to decode something, whether it was a differential or just your expression. Jack looked confused too, but quiet.

"Okay…" you said slowly. "That's good."

"What? Oh, um, anyway— I was just wondering if you were going to Whitaker's tonight?"

You looked between Jack and Robby.

Robby's brows pulled together, both of them seemingly able to hear Mel's voice through the speaker that held to your ear.

Jack mouthed, Whitaker?

You shook your head a little, just as lost.

"One of my residents," Robby said under his breath, tapping Jack on the side.

Jack gave him a flat look. "I know who Whitaker is, Mike." he whispered back, "My memory is just fine, unlike yours."

Robby's mouth opened, already offended and ready to retort, but you reached over and tapped his chest before he could start.

Both of them looked at you.

You narrowed your eyes and pressed a finger to your lips, and then returned your attention back to the phone.

"Uh, why?"

"He's having some sort of party!"

"Oh." You glanced down at your bare knees, at the edge of your skirt, then across the living room where Robby's glass still sat on the table. "That's nice."

"Yeah! I think so. Maybe. I don't know." Mel's voice dropped a little, the brightness wobbling at the edges. "There are supposed to be a lot of people there, and I know some of them, obviously, but not like…know them know them. And I don't know what kind of party it is. Like if it's a standing party, or a sitting party, or if people are going to be weird if I leave early."

Your expression softened.

Robby must have caught the change, because his posture eased a little too.

"I was wondering if you were going." Mel continued. "But if you're busy, that's fine. You don't have to. I know it's late notice. I probably should have texted instead of calling, but then I thought you might not see it, and then I thought calling would seem too serious, and now I'm doing the thing where I explain the whole thought process, so…"

You bit back a smile. "I hadn't planned on it, but…"

"Oh, that's okay. I understand if you're busy or something." she said quickly. "I was just kind of maybe hoping you would come? Just so I can…well, you and I seemed to—"

She stopped, like the sentence had gotten too personal too fast.

You waited.

Mel took a breath, audible through the phone.

"I would just feel comfortable if you were there." she said finally. "As my backup."

The words landed in you gently, but with more weight than you expected.

You looked at Robby again. His face had changed now, the confusion giving way to something quieter. Jack's mouth softened too, his eyes moving between you and the phone like he understood enough from your expression.

"I didn't know you required backup, Dr. King." you teased, because it felt easier than letting your voice get too sweet. "You're always so well adjusted."

There was a tiny pause.

"Really?" Mel asked, quieter.

You could almost hear the smile through the phone.

Your own smile faded a little, turning tender before you could help it.

"Yeah," you said. "Really."

"Thanks." she said, almost under her breath. "Well. Okay. I'll see you around then."

"Hey—Mel?"

"Yeah?"

You looked between the two men again.

The night you had been having was still all over the room. Robby's warmth, Jack's hands on you, the careful conversation you had barely finished having. Part of you wanted to stay exactly where you were, to fold back into the strange little world the three of you had made on the couch and not let anything else in.

But Mel had called. And she had asked you to be there in the only way she could manage.

"I'll come."

"Oh!" Mel's voice jumped. "Are you sure? I have to tell you about this thing that Frank—"

The sound muffled suddenly, like she'd turned away from the phone to say something, and then just as soon as she did, she was back, her voice clear in your ear, "Sorry, I mean Dr. Langdon. He did this thing today, and it was insane—"

"Yeah, okay," you said, laughing softly. "I can't wait to hear it! Listen, I'll text you when I'm on my way, okay?"

"Okay! Bye!"

"Bye." you murmured, holding back a smile as the call ended.

Both the attendings in front of you let out little laughs. Your head snapped up. "Hey!" you said, swatting Robby's arm. "Be nice. Mel's my favorite."

Robby held up both hands in mock surrender, his mouth twitching. "Hey, hey, she's a great doctor. She's just a little…"

"Odd?" Jack finished.

You looked at him, offended, and Jack's face changed immediately.

"I like odd!" he said, one hand lifting from your waist like he was defending himself in court. "Hey, I'm as weird as they come. Trust me when I say I get it."

"As you should, night crawler." you said, still nudging him lightly in the chest. He caught your wrist with his hand, finger engulfing the delicate joint.

"Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?"

You glanced down at him, trying for wicked and probably landing somewhere closer to breathless. The sudden dip in his tone had your heart jumping into your throat. "Dunno. You'll have to come and get it when I leave."

Jack clicked his teeth softly when you squirmed again, holding both of your wrists between his wide hands with very little effort. As if to remind you that he was bigger than you, stronger, that his arms could keep you exactly where he wanted if you let them.

"Nuh uh." he said. "Want it now."

"Greedy." you chastised.

"Oh, you've only seen the start of it."

You meant to say something back. You really did. Something smart, something teasing, something that would make Robby laugh and give you another second to pretend your pulse hadn't jumped even harder now.

Then he kissed you again, not quite so sweet. His bottom lip caught yours, teeth grazing just enough to make you inhale through your nose, and his mouth curved like he'd felt the sound before you could hide it. The kiss went wet and slow, his hand climbing into your hair while the other stayed around your wrists, keeping you close while he took one more and then another until your head felt warm and your body forgot why you had been getting up at all.

"What about me?" Robby asked.

His voice was mild, almost amused, but still, your stomach flipped just at the sound. Oh, this was going to be fun.

You pulled away from Jack with a small, wet sound, blinking like you'd been caught doing something far worse than kissing a man you had very much been told to kiss.

"Can't leave without saying goodbye to me too, can you?" Robby said, his voice hoarse.

Jack's hand stayed locked around your wrists, not letting you go entirely, so you leaned awkwardly across the space between them. It was clumsy, your skirt twisting under you and your fist bracing against Jack's chest so you wouldn't tip sideways.

Robby met you halfway, his hand coming to the back of your neck, guiding you the last few inches to his mouth. His beard rasped softly against your chin, the smell of bourbon and want on his tongue when he pushed it into your mouth. It was sharp and sweet beneath the bite of liquor, his lips moving familiarly over yours.

There was a difference to their kisses, outside the obvious physical sensation of beard versus scruff. Jack made you feel fluttery and nervous and heavy with a curiosity that only knew of wanting. But with Robby, Robby you knew. And he kissed you like he knew you. He didn't rush or show off, he didn't need to make it clear you were his, because when he kissed you, you melted into it. Completely and utterly at home in your body with him.

When he pulled back, his beard had left your lips tingling.

You stared at him a second too long.

Jack gave a low chuckle, his hands still secure around your wrists. "Yeah, alright. That's a hell of a goodbye."

Robby's eyes flicked to him, still amused, still warm from the kiss as he sat back. "I couldn't be left out after yours."

Jack frowned like he had to consider it, then nodded. "Fair. Mine was pretty good."

You looked between them, face hot, still a little breathless, then finally unwound your hands from Jack's grip, pulling down your skirt as you stood.

"What?" Jack asked, adjusting himself a little beneath the throw pillow he had pulled into his lap.

You pointed at him. "Subtle."

"Wasn't trying to be."

"Clearly."

Robby huffed a laugh into his glass, which only made you shake your head harder. You readjusted your clothes, hoping neither of them noticed how unsteady your legs were, though the silence behind you told you they absolutely did.

"You two are so…" you shook your head.

"So…?" Jack asked.

You looked between them, both of them spread out on the couch, smug in different ways and entirely too pleased with themselves.

You scoffed. "Never mind."

"No, go on." Robby said.

"Nope." You grabbed your phone and started toward the bedroom. "You don't wanna know." you called over your shoulder.

"Say it." Jack called after you, teasing. "Old? Cranky? Jealous?"

"Annoying?" Robby added.

"That's yours." Jack said.

You reached the archway of the door and paused, turning back with one hand curled around the edge of the wall, fingertips pressed to the opening. Both of them were watching you.

Jack still looked rumpled, flushed and smiling with one hand smoothing down his shirt. Robby sat spread comfortably on the couch, bourbon back in his hand, his mouth still shiny from your kiss, his beard a little damp at the corner.

Your stomach flipped all over again.

"I was gonna say—hot." you said.

Jack's smile widened first, pleased and almost boyish. Robby's brows lifted, slower, his eyes darkening just enough to make you regret giving him anything to work with.

"You better be careful, honey." Robby said, his voice dropping in that awful, familiar way. "You keep talking like that, you're not gonna make it out of the house."

You grinned, backing away before either of them could pull you back in.

"Nope! I have to go be Mel's emotional support person. You two figure out how to survive the compliment."

Whitaker's house wasn't actually Whitaker's house, you remembered on the way over.

It was Trinity Santos' apartment, technically, though apartment felt like the wrong word for it. It was more like a renovated house split between floors, with a narrow downstairs hallway that led to the stairs and then up to her actual front door.

You'd changed before leaving Robby's too—something easy and a little warmer, less date-night than what you had worn for Jack and Robby. Simple shorts, a top, a cardigan for the chill of the evening. You pulled it closer around yourself as you stepped out of the Uber. The cool gust of wind helped cool the ghost of the memory of Robby's warm mouth and Jack's hands on you.

They'd both insisted on driving you, but after their multiple glasses of bourbon you'd given them a very stern talking to about drinking and driving. So Robby ordered you an Uber Black without argument.

The party was loud enough you could hear it from outside the porch. You tried the handle instead of knocking, knowing no one would be downstairs to hear it. You slipped inside to the bass pounding down the stairwell, the vibration of music along the banister as you used it to guide your way up to the front door. Slipping inside, the music swelled and you could smell the heat of bodies and incense burning.

You wondered if the downstairs neighbors were just really cool, hard of hearing, or dead asleep by some miracle.

"You're here!" you heard from your left. The living room was crowded, Santos and Whitaker already sitting on the couch beside a few other familiar faces you knew well. Mel jumped up from her spot on the floor and was bouncing in front of you before you were able to close the door.

"Hey," you said, smiling. "You good?"

"Yeah," she said, then paused, "Actually, yeah. I am. Trinity is asking everyone to play a game in the living room. Want to join?"

You glanced past her, watching the card game unfold, Santos explaining loudly over the music while she rolled her eyes and talked with both hands, Whitaker already looking like he deeply regretted whatever rule clarification he had asked for.

"Looks very serious." you said.

"It's not. Seems very easy. Dennis said you just need to play to understand."

"That sounds like something Dennis would say when he doesn't understand either."

Mel smiled quickly at that. "Maybe, yeah."

"Okay, let me… get a drink, say hi to some people then I'll come find you?"

"Yeah, okay." Mel nodded, then hesitated just a second longer. "And…thanks again. For coming. I thought this would be worse. I'm actually… I'm good. If you decide to not to stay long. I'm sure you had plans and all so—"

"It's all good, really, Mel. I'm happy to be here."

She smiled, nodded, and headed back to the living room.

You turned into the kitchen, ready for a much needed vice for the evening.

Someone was standing in the middle of the room, though—tall and lanky with dark, gray hair, tattoos on his arms. He had one hand shoved into a pocket of his black jeans while the other held a red solo cup and a rolled paper between two fingers.

Your shoulders dropped, and you couldn't help the full smile that pulled your lips wide. "Hey, Jesse."

His gaze flitted up to you at the sound of your voice, face braking immediately into a big grin that crinkled his dark blue eyes. "Hey."

He stood a little straighter, pulling his hand from his pocket to open his arm to you, and you slid underneath it, tucking yourself into his side and bringing an arm around his middle. He was tall, your shoulder fitting just right under the crook of his shoulder, one cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt, his arm folding easily over your shoulders.

"Having a good night?" you asked over the music.

"Am now." he replied, cheekily squeezing you closer. He lifted in red cup in solidarity. "And I have off tomorrow, so I'm celebrating."

"I need a drink so we can cheers to your twenty four hours of freedom." you said, elbowing him. His gold chain necklace glinted as you saw a silent huff of laughter shake his shoulders.

There was always something easy about being around Jesse. He never crowded a room or made himself known loudly, but he was never absent from it either. He stood steady in the chaos of the ED, quiet and always ready, the kind of nurse who seemed to know what was needed before anyone had to say it. When to move, when to wait, when to put a hand on a shoulder or a firm voice into the air.

And outside of all that, he was funny. A little dorky, once you'd gotten to know him. He played guitar in a small cover band, hunted down good coffee like the hipster he swore he never was.

Cool, you thought. Jesse was cool in a very… Jesse way.

He squeezed you again before letting go and turning to the counter top, stretching his hand wide across the array of liquor, "Pick your poison."

You wrinkled your nose as you scanned the vodka and tequila, some bottle of something blue you didn’t trust on principle, all of it sure to punish you tomorrow after the glass of wine already sitting warm in your stomach.

Jesse watched your face, the corner of his mouth tugging.

“If you’re interested, I was actually about to go outside.”

When you looked back at him, he waggled the joint where it was held between two fingers.

You nodded, "Yeah, okay."

He reached out his hand, bony and long-fingered, and you took it gratefully, letting him lead you through the house.

The kitchen had spilled into the living room by then, people standing in the walkway with drinks in their hands, shoulders turning sideways to let each other pass. You smiled when you saw Mateo chatting with Victoria in the corner, and Whitaker and Joy somehow enjoying themselves on the couch with Ogilvie. Trinity sat on the loveseat beside them and Mel, who was sipping at her drink, caught up in whatever story someone was telling while the game went on.

You didn’t stop to say hello, but when Trinity’s eyes found yours, you smiled. She lifted her cup a little from where it rested against her knee, and you kept moving, Jesse’s hand warm around yours, his shoulder turning sideways to make room for you towards the back of the house.

Outside, the air was crisp against your cheeks. The back door shut behind you with a muffled click, cutting the music down to a low thump through the walls. You pulled your cardigan closer around yourself as you stepped onto the deck, the railing damp where you leaned your hip against it.

Someone had left a citronella candle on the little table by the door, burned down to a shallow pool of wax and there was stack of empty Solo cups sat beside it, one fallen on its side.

“I never knew Trinity and Dennis had such a cute place,” you said.

Jesse shrugged, looking back through the glass door for a second, then over at the kitchen window before bringing pinching the joint between his lips.

“Me neither." he said, a little muffled, "I also never knew how much they really loved avocados.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head with an amused, questioning smile.

“Think I counted… like ten on their counter,” he said, flicking his lighter a few times. The little wheel scraped under his thumb, sparks catching and dying until a flame finally burned bright. "'nd one open in the fridge when I went to get a water."

A smile huffed out of you, remembering an argument between them about avocado stealing as you watched Jesse. The flame bent sideways, lighting the end of the stick in an uneven orange line. He inhaled, cheeks hollowing slightly, the tip brightening before he pulled the lighter away.

Then he looked at you with a small smile and handed it over. You took it between two fingers, bringing it to your lips, but the end had already gone out. You held out your hand for the lighter.

Instead of giving it to you, though, Jesse took a step so he was directly in front of you. He moved in closely, his hand coming up to cup around the joint near your mouth while the other held the lighter up. You couldn't help but study his face while he sparked the light—his cute gray curls and the salt and pepper goatee, the tiny creases beside his eyes and the blue gray circles under them that had gotten deeper since last time you saw him.

The flame sparked again, and you pulled a few light breaths until the end caught, smoke filling your mouth with skunky richness. It warmed your throat, holding there for half a second before pursing your lips and blowing it away from him.

"Thanks," you said, handing it back as he moved away. Jesse took it from you without looking away for long though, his fingers brushing yours before he brought it to his mouth.

“Y’know,” he said after a second, voice easy enough that you almost missed the carefulness, “people have been missing you a lot in the Pitt.”

"You guys still call it that?" you chuckled, and when he didn't reply, you shrugged, pulling your cardigan tighter where it had slipped down one shoulder. “Just been taking a bit of a break, I guess.”

“Robby being tough on you or something?” he asked.

He took another smaller hit after he said it, then turned his head and blew the smoke away from your face. The question might've sounded prying from anyone else, maybe it was. But Jesse had a way of being gentle with something like this, but in a way that made you know you couldn't get away with half-assed answers.

You took a second to answer, looking down into the yard below instead of him. There wasn’t much to see beyond the deck light: a few bare branches shifting at the edge of a fenceline, a trash can near the side gate, the pale square of a neighbor’s window through the dark.

"Nothing I didn't deserve."

When you looked back at him, he had his head bent a little, looking at you funny.

“What?” you said, a little defensive, crossing your arms.

He shook his head and handed you the joint, and you took it without taking your eyes off of him.

“Seriously, what?” you asked again, holding it between your fingers and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that, Jess.”

He shrugged, leaning back. His knee brushed yours as he stepped closer to you along the rail, the wood creaking a little beneath his weight as he settled against it. He looked comfortable here, one palm planted on the top, lighter stuffed back into his pocket.

“S’just…” he began with a sigh, eyes dropping briefly to the deck boards before coming back to you. “We get a little… worried.”

You'd been taking a hit when he'd said it, and you coughed on the rough pull.

“Worried?”

You handed the joint back quickly and pressed the heel of your hand to your chest, blinking through the sting in your eyes. Jesse took it, but he didn’t make a joke or laugh at you for coughing. He only licked his lips, gaze steady on your face.

If you knew one thing about Jesse, it was that he was not one to pull back from this kind of thing. A hard discussion. The thing that needed saying. He’d let other people talk themselves in circles if they needed to, but when it mattered, Jesse stepped in.

You could feel your limbs begin to get heavier even while your head still buzzed with nerves under his searching gaze. Your brain felt a second behind suddenly, too aware of your own hands, the thick lumpiness of your cardigan where it had bunched under your arms, the cold railing pressing into your hip.

"Yeah, worried, kid." he repeated. "We like to make sure our best girl is happy. That you're not…being…" He shrugged, glancing down at the joint between his fingers. “I don’t know. We just like seeing you. Like having you around.”

You licked your lips, unsure of what point he was trying to make, but you shrugged anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, Jess. Promise.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look away. You watched as the party moved behind him through the glass door, bodies passing in and out of the kitchen light, the music softened to bass and a loose scatter of voices. Out here, it felt so much more quiet, so still.

You looked at him again, realizing he'd asked you something when you saw the waiting look in his eyes. “What?”

“Taking a break,” he said, carefully. “Was that something you wanted?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Jesse took another hit, but he didn’t rush you. He turned his face aside to exhale toward the yard, smoke thinning out past the railing.

“It wasn’t…” You rubbed your thumb over the inside of your wrist, where your sleeve had ridden up. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, I agreed to it."

“Okay.”

“And I needed it,” you added quickly, a little too quickly. “Probably.”

One corner of his mouth pulled, but he kept it soft. “Probably?”

You huffed, embarrassed despite yourself, and looked toward the yard again. “It’s complicated.”

“Usually is with you two.”

You glanced back at him. Jesse had the joint held low now, his palms braced behind him over the railing, his face quiet in the deck light. Just waiting, not prying—but also not letting you escape his questioning, either. He was such a nurse. Always noticing the in between of things that anyone else might miss. He was like this in other scenarios too, you remembered. Your traitorous brain picking the worst time to flood your mind's eye with memories. Making you tell him how you liked it, how good his fingers felt inside of you. He would make you tell him what you wanted him to do to you, telling you how good you were for using your words. He was always a giver, as long as you asked for it nicely.

You swallowed.

“The four weeks are up anyway,” you said, trying in vain to keep it all so casual. “So… technically, the break is over.”

For a second, Jesse didn’t move, as if he hadn't heard or maybe hadn't cared. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth. It was quick, barely anything. But you caught it, and once you caught it, you felt it everywhere: in your chest, behind your knees, in the sudden warmth that pushed up through your throat despite the cold air.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice lower.

You nodded, and watched as he slowly pried his fingers from the railing, his body leaning forward and then walking towards you. He stood so close your chests nearly brushed, his long, lean body looming over you.

"Jess…" you murmured, trailing off.

He brought the joint up to his lips, sucking in a long pull.

"Hm?" he murmured, his eyes a little glossy and red even in the dark.

He brought his boney hand to your face, cupping so gently. His finger tips were cool to the touch, soothing against your warm skin. He leaned down so that you had to lean back to make room, the hand with the joint braced on the railing beside you, the other still gentle at your jaw. His mouth opened a fraction, and he released a slow breath. Not all of it at once like an exhale, but softly enough that the smoke drifted between your faces, thin and warm as it curled over your lips.

You gasped, inhaling the herbaceous scent. Along with it, was the smell of him—patchouli, spice and some sort of freshness. It was almost just as intoxicating, it made your head feel softer, your body slower to remember itself.

He pulled away, his eyes glossier now, licking his lips once again. He didn't move far though, just dropped his hands from your face to bring the joint back to his lips.

"One more?" he whispered.

You nodded. You weren't entirely sure if you'd have words now, your brain still lagging behind every movement.

He brought the burning stick back to his lips one last time and took a deeper hit, cheeks hollowing as he filled his lungs. Then he crushed the burnt end carefully against the ashtray on the railing, setting it aside before he reached for you with both hands, a little more eager.

His palms framed your face, thumbs near the corners of your mouth, and he bent down until there was almost no space left between you.

You opened for him too, your lips so close to his as released the smoke into your waiting mouth. It was shockingly intimate, intense, his body radiating heat as your chest brushed his.

And when he'd run out of smoke to give, you closed your mouth over his.

The kiss was cotton dry, but still warm. You barely hesitated to deepen it, your hand fisting in the cotton of his shirt, pulling him into you. He tasted like some sort of mixed drink, and for one ridiculous second, it made you wonder what his favorite was. If he liked tequila, or vodka, or maybe he was a gin kind of guy.

Then his tongue pushed past your lips, and all the silly thoughts went straight out of your head.

Both of you moaned when your tongues slid against each other, mouths opening wider, rougher, teeth clacking together in the clumsiness of it. It made you giggle against his mouth, and you felt his answering breath of laughter before he pushed his body harder against yours. He kissed so sweetly and yet so hungrily, everything intense and slow while still moving quicker than your brain could follow.

Your hand reached into his hair then, fingers sliding through the dark gray curls before you pulled lightly. He moaned deliciously into your mouth, a thick groan vibrating against your lips.

When he pulled back to breathe, he was panting, forehead dropping to yours. For a moment, he stayed there, breathing against your lips, his hands still holding your face. Then he rolled his forehead against yours before pulling away, only to press another quick kiss to your mouth.

"Definitely missed that." he said, voice hoarse.

“Wha—” you began as he pulled back, the cool air filling the space that had been so warm a moment ago. “That’s it?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your chin before he let you go.

“For now. Besides, I think I’m too high.” His grin came back easy and lopsided. “And I at least want to be able to remember the next time I get to have fun with you, kid.”

You rolled your eyes, but you could admit you were maybe a little too stoned too, feeling clumsy and giddy under the warmth of his gaze. He was so smiley all of a sudden, all crinkled eyes and pleased amusement, and it only made you smile wider too.

"Never took you for such a tease, Jess." you said.

“If you want more, you know where to find meeee…” he trailed off, already backing toward the door with one hand reaching behind him for the handle. “C’mon. You need water. And so do I.”

You sighed, but agreed, pushing yourself off the railing to follow him inside.

Inside, Jesse made good on his promise for water.

He guided you into the kitchen with his hand loosely back in yours, then pressed a cold bottle into it before getting one for himself. You drank half of it quickly, water slipping from the corner of your mouth and down your chin, which made Jesse laugh under his breath before he wiped it away with the side of his thumb.

“Hydration first, then go eat something,” he said seriously, lifting his own bottle, and licking the water from his digit.

You snorted. “Yes, nurse Jesse.”

That made him laugh, grinning at you for a second before someone called his name from the other room. He wandered off toward the hall, leaving you with the water bottle sweating cold in your hand and the warm, loose feeling of his mouth still lingering on yours.

You drifted back toward the living room and found Mel on the couch, high as a kite too after someone had given her a gummy. You meant to sit with her for only a second to check in, but she was glassy-eyed and too funny about the chips in her lap, and you were still stoned enough that everything she said made you fold into yourself with laughter. The two of you ended up tucked together on the couch, sharing from the same bowl, shoulders pressed close while the party moved around you.

It felt easy for a little while. Warm. Stupid in the best way. Mel kept leaning in to say things she clearly thought were very important, only to lose her own point halfway through, and you kept laughing with your hand over your mouth, trying not to choke on the sharp salt of the chips.

You didn’t notice when the front door opened again, but you did notice the change in the room. The way the voices closest to the entryway thinned out first, then the living room seemed to follow, conversation dropping until even Mel’s laughter faded beside you.

“Oh—” you said suddenly, realizing why the party had gone quieter, why no one was talking in the living room anymore.

Standing in the middle of the room, somehow the most shy and uncomfortable you’d ever seen him before, was Brendon Park.

He had his keys gripped in one hand, his shoulders held a little stiffly. There were no black scrubs, no badge clipped to his chest. Just a simple tee shirt pulled across the wide breadth of him, blue jeans, and a pair of casual loafers that made him look so oddly normal your brain took a second to catch up.

"Brendon?" you asked, standing up to come to him. His hair was different too, less severe. Usually it was slicked back from his clean face, but tonight it was barely brushed, dark pieces falling soft over his forehead.

“Hey,” he breathed. “Sorry, it’s just…” He took a look around the room, the keys tight in his hand. “Can we talk?”

"Yeah, of course—is everything okay?"

He looked a little shy, though when his eyes moved from you and to the onlookers, they darkened into that usual piercing gaze.

“Let’s go talk back here,” you offered, taking his hand in yours and pulling him away into the hallway. “C’mon.”

The noise of the party swelled again when you guided him from the room, though it muffled a little once you turned the corner. The hallway was dark except for a strip of light coming from under the bathroom door, two bedroom doors shut at the end.

“I’m sorry, Bunny,” he began with a heavy breath. “I just wanted to see you.”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Langdon told me, actually.”

"What?" you asked, looking back at the party, as if you'd be able to pick him out of the crowd. "Frankie's here?"

"He dropped Mel off, her DD or something he said."

"Oh…" you murmured, your brain scrambling to make sense of that. Frank and Mel?

"I wanted to see you, talk to you." he went on. He leaned in a little as he said it, your back settling against the wall. It was less intense than it had been the week before in the hallway, but still. Brendon had a way of taking up space without trying. His chest was wide beneath the cotton of his shirt, one shoulder angled above you, his head tipped down so his voice stayed low between the two of you.

"About what?" you asked, your voice small as a mouse.

“I’m sorry about how I acted,” he said gently, his face closer now. “I was a dick in the hallway last week. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”

“It’s okay, Bren—”

He shook his head.

“No. Not out in the open like that. And Abbot—” He hissed in a breath, closing his eyes for a second. The name on his mouth sounded like it took everything in him not to curse. “He got under my skin. And I’m sorry.”

Your hand came up to his jaw, light stubble beginning to grow there, rough beneath your touch.

“Brendon, it’s okay. I promise. I was really worked up that day and just overwhelmed.” You swallowed, thumb brushing once near the corner of his mouth. “From… not seeing anyone in a while.”

He nodded, his thick hand coming up to gently hold yours against his face, "Me too."

Your brows threaded. "What do you mean?"

His eyes were on your mouth now, and it was like he couldn't help himself, he leaned in, pressing a feather light kiss to your mouth. Then another. The third one lingered, his lips slotting against yours with more pressure, one careful breath leaving him through his nose. You welcomed it, your brain still airy and full of static, your body heavy and light at the same time.

"Miss you," he murmured against yours lips.

You hummed into his mouth, opening for him when his tongue brushed at the seam of your lips, warm and slick against yours. His free hand found your waist then, not grabbing quite yet, only settling, thumb pressing into the soft flesh of your belly beneath your layers.

The kiss stayed careful for only a few seconds.

Then his mouth opened wider over yours, and you felt the control in him start to slip. His hand tightened at your hip. His body came closer, pinning you tighter to the wall. You made a small sound into him when his hand that was holding yours against his face slid down your arm and up to your cheek, cupping your face and tilting your head back against the wall so he could gain better access to lick behind your teeth.

Fuck, he felt so good. Big and warm against you, his tongue pushing hungrily yet so gentle. You pulled it between your lips, suckling on it, making him moan.

When you let go, he was panting against your mouth, and then, his hand left your side to lean across you and push open the bathroom door.

Light flooded the hallway before he was pushing you inside, easily manhandling you onto the sink where he pushed himself against you when the door closed.

"Fuck, Bunny," he breathed when your legs wrapped around his hips. You sat on the edge of the porcelain, cold through the thin fabric of your shorts, close enough to feel him through his jeans. Thick and hard and wanting. Your cardigan slid from your shoulders, and you shook it off completely, letting it pool around you on the counter. Brendon took advantage of the movement, pushing the straps of your tank top down until your breasts spilled free, his mouth closing over one of your nipples.

You threw your head back with a breathless moan, your hand going straight into his hair. It felt so different than usual, soft and loose under your fingers, short enough that you could drag your nails over his scalp when you gripped him. He groaned at the feeling, sucking your pebbled nipple harder.

His swollen lips traveled across the valley of your breasts to take the other one into his mouth, licking and nipping until it peaked just the same. His hand came up to massage the other, squeezing it hard in his big hand.

“Jesus, Brendon—” you whimpered, your hips searching for friction.

He was panting when he kissed back up your neck, and you let him. You leaned your head back to give him more room, and he sucked harder on the sensitive column of your throat, groaning into your skin. His arms wrapped around your body to pull you nearly off the counter entirely, his hips grinding into yours.

Your body was a little contorted now, shoulders digging into the corner where the mirror met the counter, but you didn’t really care. Not with the way he was pushing his straining bulge against you, the rough denim of his jeans dragging against the thin fabric of your shorts. You could feel the seam of his zipper, the hard shape of him, the way he kept pressing in like he was trying to get closer than clothing would allow.

His entire torso eclipsed the light above you, throwing your body into shadow beneath him. Your back curved awkwardly against the small single sink, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, your hips tilted up toward him while the weight of him crowded you into the porcelain.

"Feels so good, Bunny—" he moaned, mouth wet against your neck. “How does that feel, hm? Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Yes—” you panted, your hooded eyes dropping between your bodies.

You watched the hard press of covered cock grind against you, watched the way his hips rocked into yours, the denim rubbing your thighs raw, hands tight on your waist. It was messy and clumsy in the small bathroom, his lips on your throat, his breath rough against your skin, both of you trying to get more from the little space you had.

“Love grinding on your sweet little pussy, Bunny,” he groaned. “Missed you. Missed touching you, missed fucking you—miss this. Shit, oh shit—”

His hand came up beneath your jaw, tilting your head back so he could kiss you. It was so rough that your teeth clicked together as he ate at your mouth, all heat and spit and tongue, and you opened for him without fuss, hooking your ankles behind his back to pull him in closer.

"Feels so good, Brendon—oh my god—wait—no, no, no—please—"

A building pressure was heightening in your belly, coiling down into your hips, making them tremble and ache where they tilted up towards him. Every drag of his denim-covered cock against you made it worse, the hard pressure catching just right through your shorts until your breath started to break.

"Yes," he urged, and you moaned at the lewd way he kissed you now, spit shining on his upper lip, biting at your bottom lip harder.

“I don’t—I can’t—” you gasped, fingers twisting in his shirt. “I don’t wanna come, Brendon, please. I’m n-not allowed to—”

“Fuck that,” he cursed, the words broken against your mouth before his tongue pushed back inside.

“No, no, no—” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

He was so hard against you. So hot and desperate, his hips losing rhythm now, grinding in shorter, rougher movements while his hands gripped you enough to bruise.

"Wish I could feel it on my cock, Bunny," he panted, "what I wouldn't do to have your tight little pussy coming around me right now—oh god—fuck I'm gonna—oh, fuck—!"

His body locked up, and for a second, he looked almost shocked, eyes widening as his hips shoved hard against yours. Then he came with a low groan, mouth falling open against yours, his breath spilling hot over your lips while his body jerked between your thighs.

You kept kissing him—suckling at his lower lip, nipping gently while his body came back to himself. Your own impending orgasm ebbed as the grinding stopped, the sharp climbing crest of the wave now settling down. Air filled your lungs in a shaky rush, your head a little more woozy than before, hips aching from the stretch of where he leaned into the cradle of them.

Brendon stayed pressed to you for a second longer, breathing hard, forehead dropping near your temple.

“Shit,” he whispered, "I can't believe…I just..."

You let out a huff of laughter, your hands going into his hair, scratching behind his ear. You turned your head to kiss the delicate lobe, "I thought it was hot."

He shakily chuckled with you, and then finally pulled back with a deep sigh. Shaking his head and looking down, a little bashful, he cursed under his breath.

"Feel a little like a teenager." he said with a lopsided grin, reaching for the toilet paper as he unbuckled his belt.

You sighed too, letting your body melt against the sink, stretching your legs out straight before letting them back down to the cabinet and sitting up. You watched him clean himself up, a little pulse between your legs as you watched him handle his half-hard cock, sticky wet spend glistening along the shaft.

Guilt began to curl up in your belly while you watched him, thinking of Jack and Robby. Wondering if they were both still on the couch, talking about you, about what things would look like. What would they think, knowing this is where you were? Watching Brendon Park clean himself up after he left his house in the middle of the night to come find you.

"Tell me what’s going on with you lately." he said as he looked at you again, studying your face. "I’m sorry. I get so—” He swallowed, eyes flicking over your expression and then shaking his head as he zipped his pants back up. “You’re so— I guess I just miss you. I just wanted to see you.”

You licked your dry lips as you looked over at him, tapping your heels lightly against the wood cabinet under you.

"I miss you too," you said quietly, "Things are alright. Robby and I are still—"

“Bunny,” Park sighed, cutting you off as his hands settled on either side of your hips, leaning in. “I don’t really give a shit about Robby right now.” His eyes dropped to your mouth, then dragged back up. “And I especially don’t want to hear his name when I was this close to bending you over this sink and fucking the shit out of you despite him.”

Heat rose fast into your face, and you had to bite back a smile before you could school your features.

“I know,” you said gently, reaching up to pet the back of his neck. “I know. But right now, I really don’t want to get in more trouble.”

“You’d never be in trouble with me, Bunny,” he said, very seriously. “Whatever Robby’s problem is, he can talk to me about it. I want to take care of you the way you’re supposed to be taken care of.”

Your brows threaded, "No it's—it's not Robby that's the problem, Brendon."

His face changed at that, darkening a little, but he still stayed gentle as he said: "So he's got it in your head that you somehow are?"

You bit your lip, unsure what to say to that.

He brought his hand to your face, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin to pull your lip from beneath your teeth. He leaned in, kissing you gently. His lips were swollen and soft from his ministrations on your skin.

“You’re a good girl,” he murmured. “And this mess he’s got you in is just going to end badly, Bunny.”

His voice was still so gentle, and it took your staticky brain a moment to catch up to what he meant.

You sat up straighter on the bathroom counter, "Brendon, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but if you're trying to get me to leave Robby, it's not going to happen. He and I have agreed to what we have."

“Yeah?” Park said, still standing between your legs, his hand coming back to your face when you tried to look away. His thumb caught beneath your chin, fingers firm, turning you back to him. He looked too big for the little bathroom, shoulders nearly filling the space between the sink and the door, his chest rising hard beneath his shirt.

"Listen to me, Bunny." he said, voice so soft it made your stomach twist, "You deserve better than Robinavitch. He's an emotionally stunted old man that is going to break your heart."

Your gaze narrowed on him.

For a second, you just took him in. That sharp gaze softened on you, his massive shoulders crowding the room, the swollen place on his mouth where you’d kissed him, the hair you’d ruined with your own hands.

Your hand came up to his wrist, nimble fingers wrapping around it, tightening them around the joint.

"Jokes on you, Sharkie. I don't have one."

You pulled your cardigan back over your shoulders, slid off the sink, and pushed past him out of the bathroom.

You didn’t stop in the hallway, or the living room to say your goodbyes, or even when you heard your name being called. You made a beeline for the front door, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes, your cardigan clutched crookedly around you.

“Bunny!” you heard Park call behind you, but you wouldn’t turn around. He called again, this time with your actual name, the sound chasing you through the open door and out into the cold.

You stopped on the sidewalk, the tears you’d tried holding back spilling down your face as you brushed at them with your sleeve. You clutched your phone tightly in one hand, thumb hovering over Robby’s name.

A hand came down to your shoulder, and you jumped.

"Hey, shit—I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have said—oh, bunny, c'mere," Park cooed. He pulled you into his arms before you could decide whether to let him, massive and warm around you, your face burying into the center of his chest.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, one hand cupping the back of your head. “Please don’t cry.”

You didn’t hug him back, but you let him hold you. The front of his shirt was soft beneath your cheek, still carrying the heat of him from inside the house. His nose pressed into the top of your head, his arms folding around you tighter when your breath hitched.

"You're such a dick," you cried between the deep valley of his muscular chest.

"I know," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that." you muttered wetly.

He sighed, the breath moving through his chest against your hair. For a moment, he swayed you a little, one hand spread between your shoulder blades, the other hooked around the back of your neck. Then he let you go, but only enough to hold you by the cups of your shoulders.

“I’m a jealous asshole, okay?” he said. “I know that. I’m jealous Robby gets to have you all to himself. I’m jealous he gets to call the shots with you when you’re your own person able to make your own decisions. It pisses me off, Bunny.”

"Brendon—"

“I could be so much better for you,” he went on, low, urgent now, the words rushing and his hands griping a little harder on your shoulders. “I would be so good for you. You’d never have to wonder if I wanted to be with you. I’d never tell you who you could or couldn't talk to— I’d never make you feel like wanting more was something you had to be punished for, and—”

“Stop!” you exclaimed.

The word came out louder than you meant it to, sharp enough that his mouth snapped shut. You pushed his arms down and off of you, putting space between your bodies so fast you nearly stumbled. Your face was wet again. Of course it was. You wiped at your cheeks with the heel of your hand, glaring up at him.

“You don’t get it, Brendon. And that’s fine. Maybe you never will, and you don’t have to. But I need you to stop thinking that I’m, like—stuck in this thing with him!”

Park looked down at you very seriously, his arms going across his chest. The light from the front door cut along one side of his face, catching the line of his jaw, the place where his mouth was still swollen from yours. He looked so handsome and so furious and so hurt. And though it pulled your heart nearly out of your chest, he had to understand.

“I chose this with Robby,” you said tersely, pointing a finger up at his chest. Your voice shook, which only made you angrier. “I want to be with him. The bullshit of the past few weeks was because I crossed a line. I slept with Jack Abbot without telling him, okay? Me. I did. Not Robby. And now this—you and me tonight—”

Your throat tightened around the words.

You looked away, one hand pushing hard over your mouth.

“I shouldn’t have even…” You stopped, breath hitching. “Jesus.”

Brendon didn’t say anything. He only watched you, face unreadable in the dim light, and somehow his silence felt worse than a retort.

“I was punished for sleeping with Jack,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him again. “And I’ll probably get shit for making out with you in there too. And that’s okay. That’s part of the deal.”

His expression shifted, jaw going tight. You saw it happen and rushed on before he could start.

“No, don’t look at me like that. Don’t do that.” Your hand lifted between you, palm out, trembling a little. “That’s what I mean. You hear the word punishment and you decide you know everything. Like you think I need saving or something. But you don’t know what it’s like with him. You don’t know what I asked for. You don’t know what I want.”

“And what you want is that whatever Robby says goes?” Park asked, disbelieving.

"Yes." you hissed.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s not about making you feel better!”

Your voice cracked then, and you hated that too. The whole night had cracked open somewhere you couldn’t close it, and now everything was spilling out wrong, too loud, too much, too honest. You crossed your arms over your chest like you could hold yourself together physically if nothing else.

“So all of this,” he said after a long moment, voice lowering, though a scowl still pulled his features tight, “the crying, the pulling away, telling me no last week and then kissing me back tonight, then looking scared because we—what? Made out? Something we’ve done plenty of times before, but because Robby’s waiting for you at home now, it’s different? That’s all because you want it this way?”

He took one step closer, then stopped himself. “If it is, tell me now,” he said, his voice so low you had to strain to hear it. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t come to you. You and I will be done.”

Your throat burned even worse when you looked at him now, your eyes softening and going wet again.

"I don't want you to be done with me." you croaked.

His face softened at your words, his shoulders dropping. But he kept his arms folded across his chest, still staring at you with a piercing gaze.

It sounded so childish, so quiet and defeated, completely different from your sharpness before. "I want you, Brendon. I like how you look at me. I like kissing you. I like all of it, and it’s just—” You dragged in a breath, pushing both hands into your hair. “Shit is weird right now.”

"But it doesn't have to be, Bunny."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“But it is. It is, and things will go back to normal soon, it’s just—” You sighed, pushing your hands into your eyes until you saw little sparks of color behind your lids. “I don’t know how to do this right now. I keep fucking up. I don’t know how to want you and not make everything worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

When you dropped your hands from your face, Brendon was right in front of you, closer than you expected but not touching you yet. His gaze moved over your face, taking in the tears, the heat of your face, whatever wreckage the argument had left behind. Then his hand lifted, slower this time, giving you every opportunity to move away.

When you didn't, he pushed your hair back from your face, careful around your temples, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Okay,” he sighed against your skin. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

You sniffled and looked away.

He exhaled long and controlled, the way he did when he was forcing himself not to say ten other things.

"Can I take you home?" he asked softly, "We don't have to fix this tonight I just…want to at least get you back safe."

You nodded, arms crossing in front of your chest. "Yeah, okay."

“Okay, c’mon.” he murmured.

His arm came around you, pulling you in close. It didn't feel possessive anymore or unwelcome. It was just the warmth of his body against yours as he guided you to the sleek black BMW, and you let yourself be led. You leaned against him, exhausted by the conversation.

When he opened the door for you, you climbed in wordlessly, shutting it behind you with the rest of the evening.

fun fact: I have a friend in an enm relationship and she read it over and me the two thumbs up on this !! even about having someone outside the relationship trying to push that they know better for you.... mmmhmmm

he didn’t mean to find you, really. heaven knows he was only on the way to the bathroom, snapchat map clearly not open to your location. at the desk you have your knees to your chest & a marker in your teeth as you frown at your textbook, and sato has to swallow the ache in his throat because your lips are all pouty & glossy & bruised against the marker-cap. fuck.

he strolls over, smile easy & hands in his pockets like you don’t make him shed nerves by the pint.

“y/n l/n,” he grins, leaning over the chair across from you. “fancy seeing you here.”

“don’t make me reject you twice in one week, sato.”

sato gojo bites his lip. your eyes don’t care to meet his as you speak & sato can only watch as you twirl your marker in your teeth. god, you’re so pretty. and god, you’re so mean, shutting him down every time he tries to speak to you because of his ‘playboy reputation’. bullshit.

he’s silent for a beat. “you have sharpie on your nose.”

you blink, hands slowly lifting to your face to rub at your nose. your fingers come back stained in black, & sato gojo can only bite back a smile as you frown at your palms.

“oh my god,” you groan.

“cute,” sato chuckles, pulling out the chair to sit across from you. you’re frowning at him now, lips curled in distrust. but sato doesn’t miss the heat in your cheeks, the glint in your eyes. he makes himself comfortable & leans forward over the table:

“so what’s got you so mad you’re drawing on your face?”

you frown, but sato still gazes at you with that stupid grin & a twinkle in his eyes. you sigh, licking your molars, eyes flitting back to your textbook.

“my group mates,” you tap your marker. “they dumped all the work on me, again. something about me being the ‘smart one’ anyways.”

sato nods, but his attention is split. half of his mind is on the way your gloss spoils in the heat. the other half’s focused on how your lashes flutter even though you’re grumbling. his stomach aches.

“i get that, y’know.”

you blink up at him. “you do?”

he misses the snark in your tone. “people expecting stuff from me, it’s exhausting.” he leans forward, takes the marker from between your fingers & taps it against your knuckles. “for me, it’s girls.”

“…girls?”

“mhm,” he’s still playing with your knuckles, tapping the marker-cap to the bone, lifting each finger & cocking his head like he’s inspecting them. “tons of ‘em, blowing up my phone just because i was nice to them once,” he tugs your thumb wistfully before leaning back. “it gets tiring.”

“…girls.”

“yeah,” sato nods. “girls.”

it’s silent for a beat, sato’s eyes boring into yours. his gaze is tender, nose red, & the marker that was once in your hands is somehow between his lips. his lashes flutter in the light.

you can’t believe he’s deadass.

you’re packing your books now, orgo chem & other textbooks shoving into your book bag. sato watches with his brows knit in confusion. “hey, hey—where are you going—?!”

you leave the library and don’t look back.

NANAMI’S REMARK : WHAT KIND OF MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE IS THIS…?

NICE GUY TACTICS #2: PLAYBOY? NAH, PAYBOY !

taught by: toji zenin

“girls like you for your face but stay for the black card. stop talking and start spending.”

ΣX

it’s tuesday again, and toru gojo’s room is filled with practically everyone but himself. sukuna’s palming his dick with his phone in one hand & toru’s bedsheets covering the other. sato’s twirling a beach ball even though it’s the peak of spring. toji zenin is tugging black tights over his thick thighs, upper half already covered in an equally tight black leotard.

“so,” sato hugs the beach ball to his chin. “new job?”

“dance instructor for katseye,” toji grumbles, struggling to fit the tights over his ass. sato bites his cheek.

“what happened with skai jackson? thought you were working as her personal AI prompt writer.”

“fired. and the brat says AI is bad anyways.”

sato nods. on the bed beside him, sukuna has blown his load & is laid back against toru’s sheets. he has a hand behind his head & the other resting lazy against his cock. “nice ass, zenin.”

toji doesn’t look up, still shifting the tights over his buttocks. “don’t talk about my ass with your dick in your hands.”

sato drops the ball to his lap and groans. “can you guys believe i’m still having no luck with y/n?”

“oh, brother.”

sato shoots sukuna a glare. he slumps against the wall, “i’ve tried listening to her, just like kento suggested. no fucking luck.”

in front of the mirror, toji zenin has succeeded in fitting the tights over his taut ass. sukuna asks him to do a spin & toji tells him to fuck off. sato watches the exchange with a slight pout before his eyes drop to toji’s crotch. damn. he was no expert in print catching, but that dick was definitely a D+.

he shakes the image of toji’s dick away. “i really don’t know what to do about y/n.”

toji picks up his duffel bag. “you’re a gojo, right? you got money?”

“yeah?”

“then use it, dumbass,” toji grunts. “pull out that black card and pay your way into her good books.”

sato only frowns. “y/n doesn’t seem like the materialistic type, though.”

“all women are materialistic,” toji mutters, fumbling through drawers for his keys. sukuna throws them at his head, & toji’s smart enough to pick them up with a tissue to avoid getting precum on his hands. “i’m not gonna ask why you were with my keys. and sato, take my advice if you want a chance with this chick.”

toji exits the room. sukuna has his dick out again, and sato contemplates his next steps as sukuna moans in pleasure beside him.

# SHOW TIME !

at the campus bookstore, there’s a line of 20 students glaring holes into your back.

four textbooks, a lab coat, & five other things you’ll use for class & never touch again. at 214 college street, there’s a heat in your cheeks & an ache in your stomach as the cashier hands you back your card. declined.

“sorry, can you just try again? or could i split the total between two cards—?”

“miss, i’m afraid you’re holding up the line.”

your lips are already bruised & half-bitten when someone sighs loudly behind you. you’re scrambling for another card with too many books in your hands but before you can find one something hard presses against your back.

“she’s with me. put everything she has on here.”

gojo sato has his chest smushed against your back & lalique’s encre noire pricking at your nose. he leans over you to hand his black card to the cashier, who takes it from him with glee.

you tense from the feel of his skin. you bite your lip as you watch the cashier swipe the card, & you’re fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“relax,” sato murmurs in your ear. “i’ve got you.”

and you do. your shoulders slump into him. your breathing steadies. you don’t even mind the way sato’s hair tickles your ear as he leans over you, or the way his palm has climbed up to meet your hip. he mumbles a sorry as he presses you closer to the counter. his palm doesn’t fall afterward, & your spine tingles when his thumb brushes your side.

“here you go!”

the cashier hands you the bags with a smile as stretched as plastic. sato takes the bags instead, and you watch, wide-eyed & stupefied, as he carries the heavy load all in one toned hand. he walks slightly ahead for a bit before he reaches out his palm behind him. he makes a grabby hand & you take it with a blink.

he gently tugs you forward to walk beside him. he’s grinning, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

his smile grows. you’re peering up at him with wide eyes & god you’re so cute, you’re always so fucking cute, and god. his heart’s all swollen & sticky in his chest.

his hand shifts to your waist now, brushing up & down gently. “good thing i was close by, right?”

“thank you—“

“no need to thank me, sweetheart.” he hums, pressing you flush against his side as you walk together. “i know people like you are usually impoverished. that’s why you study so hard, right?”

you blink, “what?”

sato doesn’t hear you. “i saw you struggling to pay,” he sing-songs, eyes shut & grin pleased. “so i generously thought to step in. pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to pay anyways.”

you stop in your tracks. his thumb is still rubbing slow circles on your hip. “sato.”

“hm, baby?”

“don’t ever show your face to me again.”

you leave him on the street with your books in his hands & his heart in his throat.

TOJI’S REMARK : 🤦🏿‍♂️

NICE GUY TACTICS #3: LET HER COME TO YOU !

taught by: geto suguru

“you’re doing too much. sometimes you gotta give girls space and let them come to you.”

ΣX

“i’m actually creasing!”

it’s thursday again, and sato gojo is sitting cross-legged on his bed with sukuna’s head resting lazy on his lap. through his macbook screen geto suguru is laughing hysterically, tears in his eyes as sukuna snickers on sato’s leg with a palm clutched over his mouth.

they’re all wheezing—with the sole exception of sato gojo, of course.

suguru wipes his tears on his cashmere knit sweater. he’s looking all neat & proper, hair tied back & the picture of perfection. suguru is away in manchester for a study abroad semester. sato misses him badly.

till he opens his mouth again.

“i can’t lie, yeah,” suguru dabs at his eyes. “you’ve absolutely bottled it.”

“can you drop the british accent? you’re a first gen japanese immigrant.”

“allow it,” suguru shakes his head. sukuna is throwing up peace signs at the camera so balloons rise up on the facetime screen. “to call the girl you like impoverished…” suguru says through balloons, “just pack it in, mate.”

sukuna props his head up so his face is on the screen. his smile is clumsy: “your boy’s a proper wasteman.”

suguru grins, “is he?”

sato groans. “i was being a provider. following toji’s advice.”

“mind you, the man can’t even provide for himself.”

suguru snickers at that. “not too much, ryomen. and sato, don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”

“i don’t think i’m trying enough.”

“i think you’re trying in the wrong direction,” geto leans back, all calm & cashmere soft. “give her some breathing room—some space. let her come to you.”

sukuna bends his hands into a heart & a heart bubble appears on-screen. “might be your only option at this point. suguru, can i play on your sims 4 save file?”

“absolutely not.”

sukuna breaks the heart.

sato gojo has his back slumped over, brows knit, & lips twisted in concentration.

“let her come to me…got it.”

# SHOW TIME !

sato gojo is stalking you.

you’re on the way to class with a pen in your ear & a patience worn thin. he was three seats away at the local café. two in the campus library. now you’re walking through the courtyard & sato gojo is leaning back against a bulletin board like his eyes aren’t following your every move.

he has your books in your hand from the other day. is he wearing your lab coat?

you shake the thoughts away & keep walking. you’ve got a test in two hours. a project due in three. screw sato gojo & his rich kid privilege & clumsy smile & bright blue eyes and—

sato scurries behind you just to lean back coolly against yet another bulletin board. what the hell is his problem?

you snap, whipping around. “sato! what are you doing ?!”

his eyes widen. he’s still leaned against the bulletin board, your books in his arms & his hair messy-cute. there’s red on his cheeks & his eyes widen before he fixes his face & plasters on that smooth smirk:

“i’m letting you come to me.”

you blink. “no, i’m going to class.”

“and then you’re coming to me afterwards.”

“no, i don’t fucking think i am.”

he slumps forward as if your words are a weight on his shoulders. he’s pouting now as he walks up to you, your books hugged tightly to his chest. “i owe you an apology.”

“do you?”

“yes—god, yes i do.” he’s close now, too close. “y/n, i’m so fucking sorry. i wasn’t thinking straight. i was trying so hard to impress you and look like a provider but ended up sounding like some classist prick. you’re fucking amazing—strong, smart, independent—god, you’re my inspiration. please don’t make me stay away from you,” he clutches his chest. “my heart can’t fucking take it.”

sato gojo looks like an idiot.

your lab coat shrugged lazy over his shoulders, thick books pressed to his chest & a gaze too tender. he keeps his eyes on yours but his pupils shift like they’re heavy with nerves. you bite your lip. fuck.

“i forgive you,”

he blinks, straightens up. “really?”

“yes, really,” you murmur, picking out each book from his hold. he watches as you pluck them into your arms, your nose flushed & lashes fluttering, & his gaze is all misty. his heart goes sticky in his chest.

“i really like you.”

oh fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. he meant it, oh god, he meant it, but he didn’t mean to fucking say it and—

“i know,” you peer up at him, voice soft & gaze gentle in the heat. “walk me to class?”

he takes your books back into his arms. your lecture is two hours too long but sato gojo waits outside the whole time.

GETO’S REMARK : NEAR DISASTER; BUT CHEERS, MATE !

NICE GUY TACTICS #4: ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE PRIZE !

taught by: ryomen sukuna

“act like you’ve already got her, and you finally will. law of assumption or whatever.”

ΣX

in toru gojo’s room, ryomen sukuna is playing the sims 4 because he has no respect for suguru’s wishes.

sato gojo is on his bed, cheeks flushed & head dizzy. he’s still brushing a thumb over his palm, heat prickling at his skin as he remembers the way you held on when he picked you up after class. your hands were so soft, & you’re so pretty, & gojo sato is utterly fucked.

you’d frowned up at him when you found him waiting but let him hold your hand & guide you to the library regardless. sato tries to breathe. the air goes sticky in his lungs.

at toru’s desk, sukuna is drowning geto’s sim. “why are you smiling like an idiot?” he mutters.

“ryomen,” sato exhales. “i think i’m in love.”

sukuna scoffs, then grins when suguru’s sim kitchen catches fire. “so? you guys are dating now?”

“not yet,” sato sighs, easing into the covers. “to be honest, i’m not even sure she likes me. at least, not the way i like her.”

“mm. i think she just tolerates you.” / “shut the fuck up.”

“listen,” sukuna’s typing cheat codes into the game now. “you want her to be yours? act like she already is. it’s the law of assumption.”

sato blinks. “you believe in manifestation?”

“i use subliminals. how do you think i got my dick so big?”

sato doesn’t comment. “by the way, suguru’s sim asked yours for a divorce. just thought you should know that.”

sato sits up, suddenly serious. “new save file. now.”

# SHOW TIME !

sigma-chi’s frat house is blaring speakers & bodies pressed together on a friday evening.

sato gojo has a cup in his hands & liquor in his teeth. beside him sukuna’s on a chair chugging beer, porn playing in his headphones so he can have a dick print. his technique seems to be working—two bodies to the left, there’s a girl & her friend. sato overhears them conclude sukuna must be a D.

in sato’s ears, however, he’s playing an attract your crush! subliminal—hand-picked & recommended by ryomen sukuna, of course. he has his hands in his pockets, cap slumped & limbs lazy—until he spots you.

glossed hair, glazed lips & your tongue in your cheek. you’re wearing a skirt too short to be sweet & now sato has his tongue in his cheek too. you’re shifting around as if nervous—as if you’d rather not be here, & sato’s heart aches with something akin to want.

he doesn’t realize when his body starts moving.

you’re faced away from him, lips bitten, so he takes your hand from behind. you jolt, “oh—hi.”

“hi, baby,” he mutters, guiding you closer. “you look pretty.”

“thank you,” you murmur, breathless. sato’s arms loop around your hips. you only lift your palms to rest on his chest.

“have you had anything to drink?”

you shake your head, and sato’s hands are climbing higher now, under your top & grazing your spine. his hands are cold, so cold.

sukuna’s subliminal is still buzzing in his ears. he’s always been a daring boy, so he takes the leap. cups your cheek with a palm. brushes your waist when you shiver. “i can get you something.”

“that would be nice.”

he nods & guides you towards the bar.

——

sato gojo’s not sure how he’s done it.

you’re so pliant today. soft & unguarded, warm edges & caramel-sweet. even now he has your back pressed against his chest at the bar, hands on your hips, your perfume in his lungs.

you look up at him, “sato?” and he wants to kiss you because your eyes are too big & your voice is too pretty.

“mm?”

he leans down to hear you & his nose brushes your neck. his thumb is brushing circles on the dip beneath your waistband.

“do you…um. do you actually like me?”

oh god.

sato wants to say he’s never liked anyone more. that last night he dreamt about the shape of your frown, that his ribs ache when you ignore him, that his heart scraped against his throat the day he tried to pay for you but he messed up & you left, that he practiced his apology in the mirror till his throat hurt & if you ever said you liked him back he’d swallow his pride & cry.

but the subliminal still hums in his ears. sukuna’s words are still a ghost in the heat. ‘act like you’ve already got her!’

so he clears his throat. puts on that fake confidence like frat boys do.

“dunno,” but his hand grips your hip. “why? you want me to give you a chance?”

you still in his hold. sato gojo has fucked up once again.

SUKUNA’S REMARK : DAMN.

NICE GUY TACTICS #5: EGO IS THE ENEMY !

taught by: toru gojo

“i’ve played these games before. trust me when i say to just be yourself.”

ΣX

that evening, sato gojo has his knees against the tile & acid in his jugular.

he’s bent over the toilet seat, tongue curled & bone in his stomach. toru gojo has his hand in sato’s hair, holding it back as his twin brother spills his guts into the toilet bowl.

“i fucked up,” he rasps, then pukes again. “toru—toru. i fucked up,”

his nerdy brother bites his lip. it’s a sight for sore eyes—his twin on the bathroom floor with split lip & bruised knees, babbling over a girl with red cheeks & eyes watery. toru picks up a towel to wipe his brother’s face. “you need to calm down—you made a mistake. it’s not the end of the world.”

“it is, fuck, it is.” sato’s tears fall faster than toru can wipe. he’s shaking, “you know this isn’t the first time? that i called her poor?” toru winces. “and she let it go like a fucking saint and—hic—i still fucked up. i hurt her again.”

sato’s nose is blotchy red & his eyes are swollen puffy. the tears don’t stop. “i always hurt her. toru, why do i always hurt her?”

toru kneels down to his brother’s shaking figure, one hand on his cheek & the other dabbing his tears. “because you keep trying to perform. keep acting like something you’re not.” toru pauses. “like i was doing before i finally got my girlfriend.”

sato remembers—how he and his frat brothers gave toru a bunch of ‘playboy tactics’ to woo over his girl. sato shakes his head, sniffling. “i’m not pretending. i’m not fucking pretending.”

“you are,” toru wipes sato’s nose with his sleeve, then quickly regrets it. “i’ve been busy with projects but i know how you get, sato. acting all suave like you don’t overthink everything she says. like you don’t ask for advice on reddit forums. like you don’t make geto roleplay with you so you can decide exactly how to approach her.”

toru pauses, takes in his brother’s sore eyes & tear-stained cheeks. he hugs his brother’s head: “i know how you get.”

sato goes limp in his arms. “i really, really like her.”

“i know,” toru squeezes. “we all do.”

sato lets his head fall limp in his brother’s neck. he can’t help but wish that it was you.

—-

sato gojo has typed your name four times into his notes app because he likes the way it looks on his screen.

then he deletes it, then types it again, then deletes it with tears in his eyes. there’s still alcohol in his throat & his head is too fucking dizzy. it hurts to breathe & sato gojo can’t fucking think.

y/n.

it takes him three tries to spell your name into his contacts. not because he can’t spell, but because there are tears clouding his eyes & his throat hurts whenever he tries to sound your name out. y/n y/n y/n. no search results. then he finds your name saved under ‘baby :)‘ & he’s finally able to breathe again.

he’s still half-drunk, and he can’t really see, and there’s a wound in his chest & his thumbs are shaking so he prays to god for strength as he types. sato gojo hasn’t been to a church since he was eleven. he can’t even spell the word messiah.

SATO:

Hy [deleted]

Hi

y/n i’m so sorry

for everything

ikm such a fucking idiot

when u asked me if i reallly liked u and i said idk and u froze in my arms i felt my heart fucking stop in my chest y/n i’m so sorry

i like you i like you so bad

i don’t have the confudence to say it out loud to your face im so sorry

*confidence

i want to be a better man for you

i’m sorry for always hurting you i try not to i swear i do but i always think too hard and say the wrong things i swear i never ever mean to hurt you never ever

i liek you so much i’ve never liked any girl the way i like you ever in my life

i take acantability

accowntabikity

accountant

accountabity

i’m sorry im accountable

sato’s eyes blur. he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the tears. his hands are shaking but he prays again and he’s able to type just one more message.

SATO: ilikeyouilikeyouilikeyouilikeyou

the typing bubble pops up in the chat. he passes out before he can see your message.

——

“where is he?”

sato gojo has his nose beneath the covers, lashes sticky with dried tears & want. his hearing is muffled & his head is dizzy so when the lights flick on he retreats further into the covers.

toru gojo kneels in front of him. “sato. wake up.”

“mmrrnnhhhh.”

toru sighs. you walk up next to him and kneel in front of the bed. “sato?”

he stills. he knows that voice anywhere.

slowly, agonizingly, he pulls down the covers. just a little, just an inch—just because his nose is still blotchy & his eyes are still puffy & he doesn’t want you to see him like this. he opens his eyes & god. if this is a dream—messiah. please don’t wake him up.

you are so beautiful & your eyes are so big & sato gojo can’t believe you’re right here in front of him.

“sato. hi.”

he tries to say hi back. his lips part but he can’t seem to get anything out.

toru rises to his feet. “i’ll get him some water. be right back.”

it’s just you and him now; sato gojo and the only girl he’s ever loved. is it too early to use the word love? you’re resting your chin on folded arms right in front of him & sato does think he’s in love. he hasn’t even properly told you he likes you. he has to hurry up and say it.

you’re so close your noses are touching. you’re so pretty & you smell so sweet. “sato.”

“hi, baby—” but then he coughs. “hi, y/n.”

you giggle at that. sato realizes he’s never heard you giggle before. he wants you to giggle again. can you giggle again?

“i got your messages,”

ah. he swallows. “i texted you back and you didn’t respond. i got worried so i came here.”

sato can’t believe his ears. you worried about him?

he blinks. “i love you.”

your brows furrow.

“i’m sorry for saying it,” his voice is small, shy, slightly muffled beneath the covers. “but i think it a lot. and i’m sorry for loving you because i know i’m not worthy of your love, or of you in general, but if i said i like you that wouldn’t be correct, because the way my heart feels when i think about you is more than ‘like’,”

he breathes. “so i’m sorry for loving you. but i still love you. i’m sorry.”

you don’t know what to say to that. sato gojo is still peering at you—lashes sticky, blue eyes dim yet brimming with light. he’s retreated further into the covers now so all you see is white wisps of hair & those bright blue eyes.

you tug down the covers. he freezes, breathing heavy, eyes wide with both fear & adoration as you climb on top of him.

“say it again.”

“i…like you.”

“no, the other one.”

oh. “i love you.”

sato gulps. “i love you. i love you i love you i love you—“

you press your lips to his own as he holds your hips. he still says ‘i love you’ between your lips.

BONUS #1 — Y/N’S MESSAGES !

——

baby :)

😂😂 lol

you don’t expect me to acc believe this right?

do you know how many times you’ve hurt me these last few weeks and i let it go because my dumbass was in love with you?

*liked you

i was vulnerable and asked if you truly liked me and u said u don’t know and some other dumbass shit

that’s so fucked

you’re so fucked

you’re not fair to me that’s not fair sato

you say you’re sorry and you like me but you can’t even say it to my face? how is that fair? huh sato?

sato

sato?

are you okay

sato

i’m coming over

BONUS #2 – EPILOGUE !

it’s friday again, the end of the week, and sato gojo is at the airport with a grin on his face. his best friend is finally back in town & sato is practically vibrating.

“well, if it isn’t our casanova.”

“suguru!” sato tackles him in a hug. geto laughs, feet wobbly, patting at sato’s back affectionately. “you’ve got a girl now, mate. back up a bit, yeah?”

sato pulls back, frowning. “no more british accents.”

suguru smiles, “no more.”

in the car they talk about everything. sato should be driving but instead he plays passenger princess, recounting the last few weeks without him.

“so you’ve finally gotten the girl.” geto hums.

“yup.”

“and you told her you loved her before you even started dating.”

sato bites his lip. “yes.”

“you’re down bad.”

“i know.”

“i’m glad you’re happy, y’know,” geto is talking but sato’s phone dings in his lap. that special notification sound he’s set up only for you.

mine🫀: are you still picking up geto?

sato grins.

—

sato: you miss me, baby?

mine🫀: shut up

i’m still at the library

sato: i know babygirl i’m omw

mine🫀: nooo don’t come here

i need to study and u won’t let me focus

sato: thought i was your favorite distraction? 💔

mine🫀: ha. ha. don’t come here

sato: too late already at the exit

mine🫀: SATO

—-

“sato? are you listening?”

“sorry,” sato mutters, locking his phone. his knee is bouncing & his chest feels light. god, he’s so in love. “take the next left. suguru, do you know ryomen fucked with our sims’ marriage?”

“he what?”

“i need you to make a sim for y/n. i want to marry her instead,” sato hums. he’s clicking his phone on & off now, clearly not waiting for your next notification.

“i told that fucker not to touch my game.”

sato licks his canines. “that boy doesn’t listen.”

suguru’s grumbling now, something about a ‘good for nothing porn addict’ and ‘fuckass exhibitionist kink’ but sato only hums along in the passengers seat. then his phone dings again.

mine🫀: [Image Attachment]

he clicks on it way too fast.

and it’s a picture of you, phone in your lap & pouting down at the camera. your hair’s all messy in your face & your lips are bent in the cutest frown. god, you’re so beautiful. god god god.

he licks his lips. types back: ‘i love you my baby.’

“sato—? sato? what the fuck, man.” suguru’s still gripping the wheel, eyes on the road. “i’ve been talking for two minutes. who’s got you smiling like that?”

his phone dings again.

mine🫀: i love you too, idiot 💖

sato smiles. “my girlfriend.”

SIGMA-CHI’S REMARK : WE’RE HAPPY FOR YOU, BRO.

# SIGMA-CHI STORIES !

© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.

everything is blurry to you. all you can manage to do is let out a string of pleasure filled whines. your body is easily overpowered and held up against the harsh wood of the nearby wall. your thighs are spread in an awfully painful way, your knees up to your chest. quite literally folded in half.

“i said eyes on me, y’ fuckin’ slut,” sukuna barks.

he doesn’t have the patience today. you breaking the intense eye contact with him only worsens his mood. one of his veiny hands tug at your hair. the others hold you up—not allowing you to even think of getting back on your feet until your tight cunt is done milking him for what he’s worth.

you gasp and sukuna takes the chance to grab your jaw with yet another free hand. “open y’r mouth,” his hips do not still for even a second.

they roll and ground against yours, the surrounding skin near his pelvis stained with your wet juices. he can smell it. just as nasty and dirty as he wants it to be.

you part your lips and keep them like that, not wanting to piss sukuna off even more. he grins at the sight of your red tongue instinctively rolling out like the obedient woman you are.

he spits right into your mouth, “swallow.”

you do so without second thought. the warm liquid trickles down your throat.

sukuna watches in satisfaction, drilling into you until your insides are complete mush. you’re drooling over yourself already—clearly having lost control over your rationality.

you sniffle and try to hold onto sukuna’s biceps. your small fingers curl around the shape of them, nails digging into his flesh. every time you think he’s finally letting up, he only increases his inhuman pace.

“my l-lord, ‘s too much,” you cry out.

your body can only handle so much pleasure before it’d break down. your pussy is convulsing around his girthy cock, feeling his other sliding back and forth over your sensitive clit.

the king of curses shuts you up with a hiss. his bottom set of eyes is focused on the impressive scene of your tiny pussy swallowing his cock so easily. he’s feeling proud of the fact that he’s molded you into the perfect concubine for him and his carnal pleasure.

sukuna has fucked you silly enough times to know how to get you under his spell. his fingers brush over your hard nipples, grabbing the squishy flesh of your tits as they bounce with each of his thrusts. he leans his head down towards yours.

his rough, raspy voice makes your body heat up, “no, no. it’s never too much for my little girl, right? she can easily take ‘nother load f’me.”

your breath hitches and sukuna realises it’s working. he knows just what to say to manipulate you into giving in. so he can fuck you senseless for how long he wants.

you’re a sucker for the fact that he calls you his. that’s what you are—you’re his woman. only his and no one else’s. the claim of ownership makes your pussy clench.

“mghh yes, my lord. i can take another, i can,” you breathe out, head swaying from side to side, not mentally able anymore to keep up with sukuna’s intense libido. yet, your body is still active, squeezing around his dick as he promises you more of his precious cum.

the king of curses snickers, amused by just how fast you gave in.

“that’s what i thought, hah,” he’s realised that his hold on you knows no bounds. you’re his toy. the only one he wants to ravish these days. and the only one worth of carrying his seed.

you’re still thinking about the way he’s called you ‘his little girl’. it’s driving you closer to the edge. you start to get louder, completely ignoring your inner thoughts that begged you to have some decorum; to try and hide the fact that you’re getting slutted out in the courtyard.

there’s not much hiding it anyway since the servants have a clear understanding of what’s going on behind them. “ngh, please—please need more!” you mewl and sukuna listens.

his red eyes darken with desire as you get into it. he loves to experience that lust driven side of yours. a complete opposite to your usual formal and shy self.

“louder, c’mon. let them know i’m fucking you good,” sukuna sneers, enjoying the mind games he is playing with you.

you’re too cockdrunk to even notice. the ‘them’ in his sentence refers to his other concubines. he knows that you’re secretly craving to get revenge on them and show them just how well you get dicked down by him every single day.

unlike them, who rarely get graced by his touch. that is, when you’re unavailable.

you do as told and increase the volume of your erotic moans, letting everyone around the estate know what you’re getting up to. not like anyone can interfere. sukuna wouldn’t dare let them live a second after.

“that’s it, yeah,” he grunts and rams his length repeatedly into you, cursing at the way you’re gripping him so tightly. you’re so dripping wet that he slips out of you for a second. he moves his hips, angling them better to slam back inside of you.

however, you’re one step ahead. your shaky hand reaches down between your legs and you quickly guide his tip to your entrance, urging him to push between your moist folds again.

“nasty fuckin’ girl,” sukuna scoffs at your desperation, though secretly thrives off it. he switches cocks and shoves the upper one into your cunt.

you gasp. you’re so used to him to the point that you can sense the difference between his dicks. the upper one has more veins and is a tad bit girthier. you hiccup and nearly choke on your own moans and spit from the change of pace and dicks.

“oh! ‘tis so deep, my lord—” you whine loudly and your hands move to hold your breasts, stopping them from painfully jiggling around in every direction.

sukuna hums in content as he continues his rough thrusts. he can feel his balls twitch and clench, ready to shoot his sperm all up in your womb like you deserve. though, he doesn’t want to end this moment too quickly.

he wants to extend it.

“c’mere,” sukuna grumbles and stops pounding your poor, aching cunt. he stills his dick inside you and allows you to cling onto his tall stature, lifting you away from the wall. he silently urges you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you.

the robes of your kimono get left behind on the patch of grass near the wall of the main house. there’s a few droplets of white liquid that’s stained the grass, right where sukuna and you were standing at seconds ago.

you don’t think about anything anymore as you babble about how full you felt with his cock all the way in you. the fat tip brushes against your cervix with each step sukuna takes towards his next destination.

“keep talkin’ to me, doll. tell me how good it feels to take my cock,” he grins smugly as he carries your little body like a trophy into the main building—not paying mind to any maids who he passes by. they’re shocked by the sight of their lady in such a state, though are only able to bow at the two of you.

sukuna finally stops in front of the dinner table. the same table you always have dinner at with him and his other women. he places your back against the surface, big hands holding you down by your hips.

“there we go,” he coos mockingly, seeing how you’re completely fucked out, yet still needing more of him.

the king of curses has his own twisted reasons of bringing you here. looking outside of the window, you notice how the sun is starting to set. that’s also the moment you realise his hidden motive.

the other concubines will sooner or later gather at the dining hall to eat supper. they’d expect a peaceful meal, though instead, they’ll be greeted by the sight of their dear lord screwing his favorite. it’ll be a painful blow to them.

which is exactly what the ruthless man wants to achieve.

sukuna licks his lips and all of his eyes focus on you solely, “gonna enjoy my dinner a bit earlier t’day, yeah?”

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you.

you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you.

it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you can’t blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine.

in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him.

you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces.

the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurts a little.

he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder.

you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off in annoyance, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure.

he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into somethin’ else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“y’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

Your lips quipped up and you nodded. You didn't know how you started talking about this- you'd only asked what she was doing and how she fell. Date with an older guy, she said, was walking back from his when I fell. It must have been more of a tumble, roll and fall from the state of her leg that had got her through the waiting room and triage.

The next thing you knew she was highlighting how good sex was with an older man.

“It's like they have the experience and the confidence and they care more about getting you off than they do themselves,” she said.

“How many dates have you been on with the guy?” you asked, only trying to keep conversation while you plucked out the gravel. Trying to distract yourself from thinking about sex and older.

“Oh, this was the first one,” said Lu, laid back on the bed with a dreamy look in her eyes. “We've been talking for a few months on this app for older guys to meet women who are younger and interested. We met tonight and I had the best sex ever.”

The pling of gravel on the metal tray echoed out.

“You got a boyfriend?” she asked you.

You were silent, acting as if you were focused on the gravel. “I don't.”

Lu smirked at your silence. “But you got somebody?”

To that you had nothing to say. Maybe you did have somebody- or at least someone came to mind. Grey hair, stubbled chin and dark eyes in the shape of a doctor.

“Oh you got somebody,” said Lu.

You managed two more pieces of gravel and glass before she opened her mouth to speak again, to probably ask you another question but at the same time the door opened, bringing with it a small snap of the bustling sounds of the Pitt at night and the faint air of woodland and grease.

“How we doing in here?”

Jack walked in like he was un-aware to how you'd thought about him and then he came like you'd conjured him up. His grey hair, short stubble at the chin that he quickly rubbed at and dark eyes evaluating.

You betrayed yourself in looking to Lu.

“Is this him?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

Jack looked between the two of you. “Talking about me again, doc?” Jack asked.

You were focused on the task at hand but you didn't need to look to find him at your side, diligently watching you work.

“All good things,” said Lu.

He huffed out a little smile, hands held behind his back. His eyes bore into your head. “I'm Doctor Jack Abbott, I see you're in good hands here. How're her bloods?”

“Bloods are all clear though blood pressure is a bit high, we wanna keep an eye on that,” you said.

Jack nodded. “Well I'm sorry you're night took an unfortunate turn, Miss Marigold.”

She shrugged, rumpling her black dress. It was sleek and fit her in ways you could never imagine the dress fitting you. “Meh, it was pretty much done anyway.”

You were too caught up in the gossip she had been giving you that you didn't think about Jack not being informed. “He kicked you out?”

“No,” she said. “I left. Didn't want that awkward after sex small talk.”

“That's called aftercare.”

It was such a thrown away comment in Jack's words. He said it like he was prescribing her morphine. But the words rushed to your body, jolted you awake and alert to his presence.

Aftercare to some may have been normal, you didn't know other peoples sexual habits- you only knew yours and aftercare wasn't part of it. Your... sexual partners were few and far between and also loved to use your bathroom and sleep it off. Besides that was months ago before you started night shifts. Now your sex life was nothing but dry dry dry with the only occasional fantasy of your attending keeping you going.

“How old are you, Doctor Abbott?” asked your patient.

You caught Jack's smirk.

“Don't you know you should never ask a gentleman his age?” he said.

“Forties? Fifties?”

“Well I'm glad you ruled out thirties.”

You laughed.

“Are you single?”

“You asking?”

“And what do you think about younger women?” Lu asked with seemingly no shame. You carried it all in the blaze of heat in your cheeks.

“I don't know if this is an appropriate conversation to be having,” you said, trying to deflect. Looking between them, you found Lu waiting with curious eyes, not at all uncomfortable and Jack... surprisingly much of the same.

“You mean how do I feel about dating younger women?” asked Jack, standing at the other side of her bed.

In your eyeline.

“There's this app, called 'Always go older' it's catered for men over forty meeting younger women with similar interests. Go on dates, have long term relationships, or just sex.”

You couldn't believe the conversation you had been having with her before Jack came in, making the small space of the exam room even smaller. Having it with him in the room was your idea of a nightmare.

Jack nodded slowly, considering. “An app for... sugar daddies?”

You looked up at him. “You know what sugar daddies are?”

He pursed his lips at you in disappointment. “I'm old, I'm not clueless.”

“If you're interested I can get you a great discount,” said Lu like this was a business meeting. “Both of you.”

Jack looked at you but you missed whatever his eyes were trying to convey when you realised this app cost.

“You have to pay?”

“To be a member yeah, there can be a lot of creeps out there and they do real good work to make sure they're not in the club. You interested?”

“Not if I have to pay,” you said, thinking first of your bank account and nothing else. You only realised once you'd said it what it sounded like.

That you were interested. That older men and dating for you were hand in hand.

You looked up hoping at least Jack wouldn't have noticed. His eyes were on you, an amused tilt to his lips. “Okay!” you stood up, pulling off your gloves. “All the gravel and glass is out but I'm gonna get another blood test in to check your alcohol levels. I'll call a nurse to dress you up and we'll keep you for observation on that blood pressure.”

She nodded. “Do you think I could do a pregnancy test too? Just, while I'm here.”

Jack approached your side, watching you again. His head was tilted up but his eyes were down on you. He was attending but as always he waited on your say. He never overstepped, never made assumptions, always let you lead with your gut.

You wondered if that was what younger women were looking for...

“Sure, I'll get you a pot for a urine sample and we can get those tests.”

“Were you practising safe sex?” asked Jack.

Lu stretched out on the bed, pulling at the seams of her dress at her cleavage. “It feels better without.”

Jack seemed un-bothered, if anything understanding as his head slowly bobbed in a nod.

You'd never had sex without a condom before. Never wanted to risk it.

Jack held the door open for you, letting you lead the way out.

It was noisier and busier yet it was easier to breath. At least for a second before Jack's body brushed yours as he walked next to you.

“Is she a cop? Feel like we were being interrogated in there.”

“That or she gets paid to promote the app.”

You slid into a chair desperately trying not to look at the clock. You had a bad habit of doing so and the night would drag on. You pulled up her chart and distracted yourself with repeating what you'd already said to avoid the inevitable conversation you were gonna be having with Jack.

His mouth opened and you beat him to it.

“I swear we just started talking about that, I was just asking her how she fell and she told me about the guy and started talking about sex and the date and the app, I... I did not invite that conversation.”

He nodded. “It's okay if you did.”

“I didn't.”

“Okay.”

There was silence between you. Your finger moves quickly over the keyboard and Abbott stayed stood there, watching.

“If you're interested-”

“- I'm not,” you said, quickly, without really knowing what he was asking for.

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Older men aren't too bad.”

“Oh no, I'm-I'm sure they're great, I have nothing against age, you know, old's great! Like.... like wine! Or-or cheese! I just, I mean, my love life- sex life is kinda, urm-” you stumbled over your words. It was annoying how Jack just stood there, letting you, without stopping or helping. “I just don't really have the time for dating.”

You worked nights and in the day you were catching up on sleeping and eating. The furthest your date life got was phone calls with Jack when he was grocery shopping and wanted your opinion, or sometimes in the morning when you got breakfast together before heading back.

He always walked you home, even if it meant an extra half hour before he got home. He was a gentleman like that.

He was still calm as he held his hands behind his back and watched you. “Are you looking to date?”

You chuckled. “Ha, you know a guy who works as crazy shifts as me?”

Jack's eyes lowered to yours. “Maybe. Might be a bit older though.”

You realised what he meant just as an ETA was called in.

The ETA had turned into five and for the rest of the night you and Abbott were too busy with the rest of the team to brush by each other. Every move was a hard move of shoulders to not bump or ripping of the gowns off and the harsh change of gloves. There was no time to talk about anything through the night, let alone whatever the hell had happened at the start of shift.

Your small reprise came when a man dressed in the makings of a rushed man walked in as the clock was striking past five in the morning.

“Excuse me, I'm looking for Lu Mari-gold?”

His hair was silver and growing at the back of his neck. It was brushed back handsomely and though he clearly must have been in his fifties (at least) he had a head full of hair and stubble growing on his chin.

He was handsome and even more so when you saw the bouquet of flowers he held in hand.

“Are you- are you family?”

“No I'm uh- I'm her partner.”

So you escorted him to her room, letting him in and giving him a small update on her care. He set the flowers next to her and you lingered, diligently checking her chart.

“Why'd you leave, honey?” he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and petting back her hair.

“Oh you know,” she said, casually. “Didn't want to do the whole awkward morning after thing.”

“There'd be nothing awkward about it. I was gonna make you breakfast, had plans to make love two you in the morning.”

Your cheeks flamed up as he said it so casually, like he was laying out a list for morning plans which.... he well was.

You decided to give them some privacy and save yourself form listening. You gently closed the door over and watched them through. He kissed her gently on the forehead, cradling her and Lu soaked it all in in adoring eyes and gentle touches.

It was a sort of tender touch you weren't used to even seeing, let alone feeling.

“Hey,” there was a ghost of a touch on the small of your back and Jack came to stand next to you. “That her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, though I don't know if they're their yet,” you admitted. “They only met tonight- well, last night. But she ran out.”

“And he came to her,” observed Jack. “They'll be just fine.”

“How'd you know?”

“The way he looks at her.”

When you looked at Jack he was already looking at you.

The thousand moments between the two of you played out. The gentle ghosts of a hand, the watchful moments but Jack was like that with a lot of people, attentive.

Your eyes fluttered as you looked away from him to the scene playing out again. “Are you some sort of relationship whisperer?”

He huffed a small amused laugh and followed your eyes to look ahead. “I just know things.”

It wasn't long before Lu and her partner were walking out, the flowers in hand as his arm was around her waist, supporting her.

They stopped off by the nurses counter where both you and Jack lingered working on separate cases.

“We just wanted to say thank you,” said Lu. “And here. There's a ninety percent success rate.”

She handed you a business card with the app name and promo code applied.

“Oh, er, thank you,” you said, un-sure on what to say other than a thanks.

Lu smiled kindly, leaning in to you as subtle as possible. Her eyes lingered somewhere over your shoulder. “Though I don't think you'll need it.”

You turned, catching sight of what she was watching.

Jack stood with Crus who was thrusting a tablet to him but he was looking at you.

“I'll- er- put it to good use. I'll see you in a couple days to check out those stitches.”

Slowly they left and you were stood frozen, staring down at the card. Ten dollars a month wasn't so bad if you didn't count the subscriptions you already had at the student loan and bills and such. You got three months half price, maybe three months to meet the love of your life or at least get some-

The card was plucked from you fingers.

Jack twirled it around. “You thinking about it?” he said, an edge to his voice.

“What? No- I don't know, she just- it was a parting gift?”

He nodded, reading the card. “Always go older,” he read.

“It's the app, younger women with, um, older men.”

“Interested?”

The way he looked at you felt more like an invitation than a general question. His eyes were hooded as he looked at you. It was the way he always looked at you but it felt weighted.

“It's just an app,” you excused.

Jack held the card out between the two of you, letting you chose.

It should've been your choice but it felt like there was a right and wrong answer.

Slowly, you plucked it from his fingers.

Two days later you found Jack Abbott on the app.

You were scrolling in the bathroom on your three minute pee break. You'd got the app that morning, caving in after spending a night tossing and turning and dreaming. You could say the dream was any old man, a faceless sort but even if that were true you felt the hard press of the chest, the tickle of the stubble. You imagined the freckles along the arms and the low rumble of his voice in your ear.

“That's it... that's it... take me in... all the way... god you feel beautiful,”

You woke wet between your legs and hot all over with little to no time to do anything about it.

You were desperate, you told yourself as you hastily built up a profile, picking what small pictures you had of yourself not in scrubs.

You hadn't had time to check it until the bathroom break and you don't make it three profiles before you were faced with Abbott.

The pictures of him were pictures you'd seen before, a selfie with his stupid smirk, the peek of army uniform there. There was another of him that seemed to a couple years ago and the third and final was a picture of him in scrubs.

It was a picture of the night shift but you could tell there were several cropped out, but you who stood next to him were still there.

You stared down at the picture of you two, his arm was thrown over your shoulders casually. He was grinning at the camera and you had a small smile to, your body leant into him. You hadn't even realised you did that.

Didn't Abbott know it wasn't a good sign to have a picture of another woman on the dating app? Unless it was your mother and you were a mamas boy.

There was knocking on the bathroom stool doors.

“Have you coded in there?” Crus called out.

You huffed and got off the toilet, pulling up your pants and pocketing your phone.

“If only.”

The night continued as usual, abdominal pains, charting, lacerations, charting, traumas and charting.

You'd hardly got a look at Jack when it was turning to six in the morning and day shifters started piling in.

You were passing the break room when the door swung open.

Jack popped out, catching you, his arms braced at the door. “Get in here, now.”

You were worried, reading through every patient you'd seen that day. You were sure you dealt with them all attentively, you'd never misdiagnosed someone before and today couldn't have been the day.

Jack closed the door behind him, checking nobody was on their way to find you before speaking. He was calm as he walked over to you, leaning his hand on the table and crowding you. “Why do you think I need to talk to you?”

You tried to think of something you'd done wrong. Anything. “Trauma came in, I er, didn't intubate quick enough?”

He shook his head and you tried to think again.

Before you could hazard a guess, he spoke. “I thought if you were interested, you'd have said something.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Interested?”

Jack's chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “In going older.”

“In going-” your mind short-circuited to his profile. If you'd seen him just a few hours ago, he could have seen you before then.

“I thought I had made my invitation clear,” he uttered.

“Invitation?” you repeated, feeling like a stuck record player.

“To go older,” Jack stepped closer and you could feel the warmth of his breath. “I was inviting you to try it.”

His breath somehow still smelt of mint freshness whereas you were sure yours was coffee stained from the three cups you'd already drunk.

“And not through the app,” he added.

You gulped. “You saw me on the app?”

“I saw you on the app.”

“But you're on the app,” you pointed out, eyes flickering up to his.

“I got it two days ago to make sure you didn't get it,” he said. His eyes weren't focused on yours. They were flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You wondered if you were still dreaming. If you were still in your bed, still dampening your panties and sheets with this crazy dream of him. You pinched yourself slowly but you felt the pain and didn't wake.

You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them and he was still there. Still calm. “You want to have sex with me?”

Jack's jaw clenched. “Honey, I want so much more than that.”

His finger was light as it brushed the back of your hand that rested on the table there.

“I want what you want, and maybe even more,” said Jack, his hand cradled your face. thumb dragging over your cheekbone. “You just got to tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.”

You'd thought that being with an older man meant being told what to do, that you wouldn't get a word in edge ways and yes, it was hot to think about.

You imagined Jack would be that, gently guiding you through your pleasure like he understood it better than you did. “You, I want you.”

Jack's lips were soft on yours, his head tilted at the perfect angle that meant he reached every edge of your lips at once. He didn't push against you, annoyingly so, he just let you feel the press of his lips like a fresh summers breeze.

It was your hands that fell on his chest, it was you that tilted your head back so he could reach deeper. It was your tongue tracing the bottom of his lips to get in deeper.

The door clattered and you jumped from Jack like he'd scorched you.

Jack only opened his eyes slowly, turning.

Robby leant on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he sipped from his coffee cup. “Good morning, brother.”

Jack took you home to his and carefully man handled you through the door. Once it was closed his lips sort yours in a hunger even a twelve hour shift couldn't kill.

He breathed against you hard as he kissed you, stirring you through his house with his hands migrating from your cheeks, to your neck, to your waist, to your hips, to anyplace he could get a hold of you.

Your hands made his neatly combed hair a mess as you leant against him, letting yourself be moved around like a rag doll.

“Is this your house?” you asked against his lips. You couldn't look around to study his space, he was hardly letting you go to catch your breath let alone turn your head.

He nodded, kissing you. His tongue entered the warmth of your mouth and he moaned into you. “We didn't break and enter, baby.”

“But you-” you gasped as his hands travelled under your shirt, sending a chill. “You don't rent.”

This wasn't your best dirty talk.

Jack smiled against your lips. “No, I have a mortage.”

You kissed him again, holding him close as your hand slithered to the back of his neck.

He was still navigating you through his house till you felt your back hit a wall. “Does that turn you on?”

Slowly he pulled at the ties of your scrub pants and he slid his hand in enough to get a feel of the warmth of your cunt through your panties. You were wet, impossibly so just by kissing him.

“Yeah,” he said, breathless. “It turns you on.”

Jack's teeth scraped down your neck, his tongue soothing where he nipped.

You tilted your head back, a silent invite for more.

A thigh of his slotted between your legs and you fell onto it.

“You wanna- wanna tell me about tax returns next?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he said, lifting his head back to yours. “I kinda wanna taste you first.”

With strong hands on your hips he turned you and pushed you through the open door into a master of a bedroom. The bed was in the middle, a four postered type thing with clean and made sheets. There was nothing messy about it, nothing to signify the exhaustion of a night shift.

Jack held your body into his, hips rutting against yours.

You acknowledged somewhere in the back of your head that he'd told you years ago he moved into a bungalow. No stairs- easier on his leg.

“Do you know how many times I've touched myself thinking about you, on that bed?” he whispered into your skin, kissing the words there.

“You-You have?”

You felt his hair tickle you as he nodded. “Do you like knowing that?”

“Yes.” You reached over, cupping the back of his head till your tongues were meeting in a sloppy kiss.

Jack's hands slipped down your waist, down your underwear and spread at your cunt till he could easily slip in a finger.

You gasped against him, body curling in pleasure you'd never felt.

He moved with you as if he was chasing you, sucking on your bottom lip.

“You like that?” he uttered, dragging out your bottom lip.

You nodded as he slowly withdrew his finger to slip another in.

“Need to hear you like it, baby.”

“I like it, Jack, like your fingers inside of me.”

The fingers on his free hand moved to wrap around your neck, tilting your head back till it rested on his shoulder. With this advantage he could like on the skin, feel the heat of you and the jump of your pulse as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, curling at the spots that got you shaking.

Your held onto his arm, fingers digging into the skin.

“You're gonna like it,” he whispered. “You're gonna like it so much you'll never go back, never want anyone else.”

His fingers worked quicker as you felt him leave marks at your neck, in places you knew people would be able to see. “Still like my fingers inside of you?”

“Yes, god, yes!”

“How'd they make you feel, baby?”

“Good, so good.”

Jack withdrew his hands and turned you, guiding you up on the bed. He leant back on his knees, slowly undoing the ties of his scrub bants.

You'd never been happier that they were black, showing the outline of his cock, hard and begging for attention.

“Take your top off.” He gestured.

You did and his eyes grew darker though didn't know how that was possible. Your hands trembled with eager excitement to get your hands on him or for him to get his hands on you. You moved to un-clasp your bra but Jack shook his head.

“Keep it on. Take my shirt off.”

His chest was broad and slightly defined. Freckles dotted around and one or two scares you'd never seen before were littered there too.

It was instinct to move in to his neck to kiss him but his hand wrapped around your neck and pushed you down till you bounced off the mattress.

“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me.”

You followed his order as he slowly dragged down your scrub pants and panties, getting a glimpse of how wet they were before they were chucked aside.

Hopefully that was the time Jack let you see all of him. No.

Like a prized possession Jack laid you out and spread your legs.

It was suddenly all too real. The haste of the drive over, his hand on your thigh, everything he said about being with an older guy and how Lu had told you how experienced they were. Would he expect something you couldn't deliver? Did you expect something?

“Jack,” you said only his name but you didn't know what else you were trying to lead on anyhow.

His eyes were earnest though clouded by desire as he pushed your legs up till you were sprawled out for him. “I'll stop any time you want.”

You watched him get closer to your heat. Felt yourself cry out for his attention.

“You're gonna like it, gonna love it,” he promised, eyes focused on you as he slid his middle finger inside of you. “Relax... relax.”

You tried to but as another one of his fingers slid into you, creating a slow thrusting pattern and his other hand kept playing with your cunt to get your lips spread you could do anything but relax.

Your breathing kicked up, your pulse was high.

As Jack leant down to slowly flick his tongue against your clit you threw your head back and moaned.

“Oh shit, Jack- Jack!”

His gaze flickered up to you, daring you to try to speak.

When you did it came out as another moan, his tongue flattening against your bud of nerves.

He played with you like that, moulding your legs around to where he wanted them. Flat on the bed, over his shoulders, up in the air. Anything to get him deeper inside of you.

All the while you alternated between watching him and falling back on the bed in aches of pleasure.

Jack watched where his fingers disappeared inside of you. “Swallowing me up, can't wait to get my cock inside of you.”

“Want it.... want it....” you mumbled, head back on the softness of his quilt.

“Yeah?” he whimpered.

Your hand fisted the quilt that smelt like him and you smothered your face in it as his fingers curled.

“Oh my god, honey... yeah....” Jack moaned before you felt the wet of his tongue on the heat of you.

You couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Whether it was his spit on your cunt or your want that was pooling into wetness on his sheets.

There was no warning, only your moans, as you came around his fingers and tongue. You had no idea you could come so quick, had no idea it could be pulled from your head to your toes.

Jack let your orgasm play out, pulling back to watch it leak. “Oh yeah... yeah...” his fingers swept up the mess lightly. “You're so sweet, oh yeah... moan like that...”

His tongue went in, licking up all the mess around you.

“Jack please, I can't- I can't!”

Your body was trembling beyond your control and he was still playing around with you and your sensitive bud. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if you could hold yourself together from breaking out in cries.

You hadn't noticed your eyes were screwed shut until you felt him move and heard the demand in his voice.

“Look at me.”

When you did you found Jack standing at the foot of his bed, scrub pants deserted and hand wrapped around his own cock.

You looked at him and then some.

“Touch me, touch me,” he said gently, prying your hands away from your chest with care.

With guidance he helped you sit up and helped you feel his cock.

You'd done this before but your mouth had never watered by the idea, your body never wept with the need to suck another guy off. Nothing about him disgusted you. Not the scars around his knee where he lost his leg, not the hair that dusted the base of his cock in tamed grey.

It moved you on.

You only jerked him off slow, only a little at first but his breath became laboured.

Jack's eyes closed as he grabbed a hold of your legs like they were his anchor.

You wanted to speed up.

“Go easy on me,” he said with a drunk grin. “It's been a while.”

You moaned and inched your body closer to the edge of the bed, your heat wanting to swallow him up.

Jack's eyes watched as you withered. He held onto your wrist that stayed wrapped around the base of his cock. “No, no, no, don't put it in yet.” Slowly he came to lean over you. “I want you to suck on it. You want it? Want to suck this old mans cock?”

In answer, the two of you moved quickly till he was lying flat on the bed and you were over him, slowly taking the tip in your mouth.

“Oh my god... oh yeah...” he moaned. Jack petted back your hair. “Take the tip.... take the tip... swirl your tongue...”

You took in his tip and swirled the tongue just as he said, watching him as you took him deeper with his careful help.

A string of 'oh yeah, don't stop' fell from him like a mantra as you took him deeper and faster, the need growing in you again.

“It's not- it's not too much?” he checked in, his head falling back.

You only took yourself off him to shake your head before sucking him into your mouth again, holding the base of him and working what you couldn't manage.

Jack groaned, hands flying to his head as his fists clenched. “You're so good... oh you're so good, baby.”

You took him deep and hollowed your cheeks.

Jack lurched. “Fuck! Fuck- shit, don't do that,” he moaned, guiding you off with pink cheeks. He chuckled, guiding you up to him. “I'll finish if you do that.”

He kissed you, never minding the both of your arousal on each other's lips. “They're are so many ways I want to be inside of you.”

You moaned against his lips. “I want you inside me, Jack.”

“I know, I know.” His brows pulled together as he seemed to have a battle in his own mind about just how to have you.

You didn't make it easier. In temptation you lied back on his bed and spread yourself out. All the while he was still caught up in thinking.

You almost started playing with yourself to relieve the build up when Jack grabbed your wrist and guided your fingers into his mouth.

He gently kissed the pads of your finger tips. “Turn around.”

Jack lied next to you, your back flush with his chest. He lined his cock up with your cunt, slowly sliding the length of it between your folds.

“Con-condom?” you mumbled, dreading the feel of anything that wasn't completely him.

Jake kissed your shoulder. “It feels better without. I'm clean.”

You nodded, breathless at the promise of feeling him. All of him. “I'm clean and I have a, an IUD.”

He kissed you again as he nudged the head of his cock into you.

Your moans echoed around the room as he held onto you, inching himself in further and further.

Only once you'd just got the feel of all of him he was slowly retreating to push back in again. For a moment it was only the sound of the both of you breathless and the gentle sounds of skin on skin as he moved at a steady pace, growing needier, getting deeper by every thrust.

“Oh my god... oh my god...” you moaned.

Jack's hands grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts in urgency. The sun was just peeking through the blinds and a thin layer of sweat glowed off both your bodies.

You tried to grind your backside into him, desperate to feel relief as his pace remained steady.

Jack gripped your hip, leaning into your ear. “Don't rush it, don't rush it,” he nipped at your ear. “Don't be greedy, we'll go slow.”

You didn't want slow. You wanted fast. You wanted hard.

The slow drag of his cock through your walls drove you mad. He reached around, fingers circling your clit as his other hand finally un-hooked your bra.

It wasn't long before Jack was slamming into you, harder, your body rocking with his movements and the head of his bed hitting the wall.

“God, it's been so long.... you feel amazing...” said Jack as his fingers circled your clit hard.

“Jack I'm gonna-”

At the warning he stilled himself inside of you.

“Not yet, honey, not yet.”

You whined, hand moving round to grab at his ass and hold him in.

Jack groaned and bit into your neck. “I know, I know. Just gimme a minute.”

You had no choice as he slid out of you and moved you around so you were flat on the bed. You felt his fingers thrust inside of you again harder than before.

His breath was hard, chest rising and falling quickly. “I wanna make you come in so many ways I can't chose how.”

He was a man starved, ravenous as he dedicated time to licking you up again, if only for a minute. But he moaned around you, sucked in your nerves and released it to the mercy of his fingers.

“Jack!” you yelled, screw the neighbours.

There was a growl somewhere in the back of his throat as he loomed over you.

“You wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, Jack, bad so bad!”

“Okay, okay honey, fuck me then, come one baby.... I know you can.”

Jack pushed into you as the both of your eyes clashed watching the pleasure in each others eyes. He set a brutal pace, holding a leg up as he peppered kisses along your chest.

“J-Jack-”

“Tell me how good I feel.”

“So good.”

“So good, yeah baby, so good,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, god baby!” He reached over and gripped the headboard, body tight in pleasure.

You arched off the bed.

“I need you to come,” he announced, eyes screwed up in pleasure as he thrusted into you hard, the slap of his balls on you.

You watched where he met you as your legs shook.

“I need you to come so I can come.... one more time, baby.... one more time, please....” he begged.

The sight of him sweating, his body rigid, eyes shut in pleasure and mouth hanging open only to voice obscene moans was enough to have you coming over the edge.

Your walls tightened.

Jack must have felt it as he steadied himself over you, fingers falling between your bodies to work you through it. “That's it.... that's it.... that's it...” He kissed along your collarbone.

You released over him, gasping, body melting into him as Jack rode out your orgasm.

“Arg... oh god... you feel so good, I-urg-”

Dirty words spilled from your mouth as Jack latched onto your mouth and let go inside of you.

The both of you were a panting, sweating mess as he calmed down, slowly slipping out of you but kissing away every whine and protest.

Your breathes slowed and slowly Jack slipped out of you, watching his release leave you.

His eyes flickered back up to you, brushing away hair that had stuck. “I've never come like that in my life.”

You were still catching your breath, still waiting for the race of your heart to dull. “Your welcome?”

Jack chuckled, falling beside you and throwing an arm over you. “I think you can delete that app now.”

You groaned with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face. Gently, Jack pried away your hands and kissed the palms of them. You turned on your side. “Are you going to delete it too?”

“Honey I only got it cause I couldn't stand the thought of you getting it, and some other gut thinking he can treat you better.”

“I always hoped it would be you.”